THE 

HOLY  EARTH 


L.H.  BAILEY  £ 


: 


LOS  ANGE. 
STATE  NOr,  >iOJl 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


THE   HOLY  EABTH 


THE  BACKGROUND  BOOKS 
BY  L.  H.  BAILEY 

Under  this  general  title  Mr.  Bailey  will  prepare  from 
time  to  time,  in  small  volumes,  his  personal  estimates 
and  expressions  on  the  important  and  interesting  sub- 
jects to  which  he  has  devoted  his  life. 


Published 
THE  HOLY  EARTH 

12mo net  $1.00 

WIND  AND  WEATHER 

12mo net  $1.00 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


THE 

HOLY  EARTH 


BY 

L.  H.  BAILEY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1916 

39W6 


COPYRIGHT,  1915,  BT 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  September,  1915 


55 
?,  1.5 


Contents 

PAQX 

FIRST,  THE  STATEMENT:  Pages  1-16 

In  the  beginning 5 

The  earth  is  good 7 

It  is  kindly 10 

The  earth  is  holy  . 14 

SECOND,  THE  CONSEQUENCES:  Pages  17-171 

The  habit  of  destruction 18 

The  new  hold 22 

The  brotherhood  relation 30 

The  farmer's  relation 32 

The  underlying  training  of  a  people 39 

The  neighbor's  access  to  the  earth 42 

The  subdividing  of  the  land 48 

A  new  map 55 

The  public  program 61 

The  honest  day's  work 66 

The  group  reaction 70 

The  spiritual  contact  with  nature 75 

The  struggle  for  existence :  war 80 

The  daily  fare 90 

The  admiration  of  good  materials 103 

The  keeping  of  the  beautiful  earth 115 

V 


Contents 

PAOB 

The  tones  of  industry 120 

The  threatened  literature 124 

The  separate  soul 130 

The  element  of  separateness  in  society      ....  136 

The  democratic  basis  in  agriculture 139 

The  background  spaces. — The  forest 150 

A  forest  background  for  a  reformatory      ....  150 

The  background  spaces. — The  open  fields      .     .     .  164 

The  background  spaces. — The  ancestral  sea  .    .    .  167 


VI 


THE   HOLY  EARTH 


THE  HOLY  EARTH 

First,  the  Statement 

So  BOUNTIFUL  hath  been  the  earth  and  so  se- 
curely have  we  drawn  from  it  our  substance,  that 
we  have  taken  it  all  for  granted  as  if  it  were  only 
a  gift,  arid  with  little  care  or  conscious  thought  of 
the  consequences  of  our  use  of  it;  nor  have  we  very 
much  considered  the  essential  relation  that  we  bear 
to  it  as  living  parts  in  the  vast  creation. 

It  is  good  to  think  of  ourselves — of  this  teeming, 
tense,  and  aspiring  human  race — as  a  helpful  and 
contributing  part  in  the  plan  of  a  cosmos,  and  as 
participators  in  some  far-reaching  destiny.  The 
idea  of  responsibility  is  much  asserted  of  late,  but 
we  relate  it  mostly  to  the  attitude  of  persons  in 
the  realm  of  conventional  conduct,  which  we  have 
come  to  regard  as  very  exclusively  the  realm  of 
morals;  and  we  have  established  certain  formalities 
that  satisfy  the  conscience.  But  there  is  some 
deeper  relation  than  all  this,  which  we  must  rec- 
ognize and  the  consequences  of  which  we  must 
practise.  There  is  a  directer  and  more  personal  ob- 

1 


The  Holy  Earth 

ligation  than  that  which  expends  itself  in  loyalty 
to  the  manifold  organizations  and  social  require- 
ments of  the  present  day.  There  is  a  more  funda- 
mental co-operation  in  the  scheme  of  things  than 
that  which  deals  with  the  proprieties  or  which  cen- 
tres about  the  selfishness  too  often  expressed  in  the 
salvation  of  one's  soul. 

We  can  be  only  onlookers  on  that  part  of  the 
cosmos  that  we  call  the  far  heavens,  but  it  is  pos- 
sible to  co-operate  in  the  processes  on  the  surface 
of  the  sphere.  This  co-operation  may  be  conscious 
and  definite,  and  also  useful  to  the  earth;  that 
is,  it  may  be  real.  What  means  this  contact  with 
our  natural  situation,  this  relationship  to  the  earth 
to  which  we  are  born,  and  what  signify  this  new 
exploration  and  conquest  of  the  planet  and  these  ac- 
cumulating prophecies  of  science  ?  Does  the  moth- 
ership  of  the  earth  have  any  real  meaning  to  us? 

All  this  does  not  imply  a  relation  only  with  ma- 
terial and  physical  things,  nor  any  effort  to  sub- 
stitute a  nature  religion.  Our  relation  with  the 
planet  must  be  raised  into  the  realm  of  spirit;  we 
cannot  be  fully  useful  otherwise.  We  must  find  a 
way  to  maintain  the  emotions  in  the  abounding 
commercial  civilization.  There  are  two  kinds  of  ma- 
terials,— those  of  the  native  earth  and  the  idols  of 
one's  hands.  The  latter  are  much  in  evidence  in 
modern  life,  with  the  conquests  of  engineering, 


The  Contact 

mechanics,  architecture,  and  all  the  rest.  We  vis- 
ualize them  everywhere,  and  particularly  in  the 
great  centres  of  population.  The  tendency  is  to  be 
removed  farther  and  farther  from  the  everlasting 
backgrounds.  Our  religion  is  detached. 

We  come  out  of  the  earth  and  we  have  a  right  to 
the  use  of  the  materials;  and  there  is  no  danger  of 
crass  materialism  if  we  recognize  the  original  ma- 
terials as  divine  and  if  we  understand  our  proper 
relation  to  the  creation,  for  then  will  gross  selfish- 
ness in  the  use  of  them  be  removed.  This  will 
necessarily  mean  a  better  conception  of  property 
and  of  one's  obligation  in  the  use  of  it.  We  shall 
conceive  of  the  earth,  which  is  the  common  habi- 
tation, as  inviolable.  One  does  not  act  rightly  to- 
ward one's  fellows  if  one  does  not  know  how  to  act 
rightly  toward  the  earth. 

Nor  does  this  close  regard  for  the  mother  earth 
imply  any  loss  of  mysticism  or  of  exaltation:  quite 
the  contrary.  Science  but  increases  the  mystery  of 
the  unknown  and  enlarges  the  boundaries  of  the 
spiritual  vision.  To  feel  that  one  is  a  useful  and 
co-operating  part  in  nature  is  to  give  one  kinship, 
and  to  open  the  mind  to  the  great  resources  and 
the  high  enthusiasms.  Here  arise  the  fundamental 
common  relations.  Here  arise  also  the  great  emo- 
tions and  conceptions  of  sublimity  and  grandeur,  of 
majesty  and  awe,  the  uplift  of  vast  desires, — when 

3 


The  Holy  Earth 

one  contemplates  the  earth  and  the  universe  and 
desires  to  take  them  into  the  soul  and  to  express 
oneself  in  their  terms;  and  here  also  the  respon- 
sible practices  of  life  take  root. 

So  much  are  we  now  involved  in  problems  of 
human  groups,  so  persistent  are  the  portrayals  of 
our  social  afflictions,  and  so  well  do  we  magnify  our 
woes  by  insisting  on  them,  so  much  in  sheer  weari- 
ness do  we  provide  antidotes  to  soothe  our  feelings 
and  to  cause  us  to  forget  by  means  of  many  empty 
diversions,  that  we  may  neglect  to  express  ourselves 
in  simple  free  personal  joy  and  to  separate  the  obli- 
gation of  the  individual  from  the  irresponsibilities 
of  the  mass. 


In  the  beginning 

It  suits  my  purpose  to  quote  the  first  sentence  in 
the  Hebrew  Scripture:  In  the  beginning  God  created 
the  heaven  and  the  earth. 

This  is  a  statement  of  tremendous  reach,  intro- 
ducing the  cosmos;  for  it  sets  forth  in  the  fewest 
words  the  elemental  fact  that  the  formation  of  the 
created  earth  lies  above  and  before  man,  and  that 
therefore  it  is  not  man's  but  God's.  Man  finds  him- 
self upon  it,  with  many  other  creatures,  all  parts 
in  some  system  which,  since  it  is  beyond  man  and 
superior  to  him,  is  divine. 

Yet  the  planet  was  not  at  once  complete  when 
life  had  appeared  upon  it.  The  whirling  earth  goes 
through  many  vicissitudes;  the  conditions  on  its 
fruitful  surface  are  ever-changing;  and  the  forms  of 
life  must  meet  the  new  conditions :  so  does  the  cre- 
ation continue,  and  every  day  sees  the  genesis  in 
process.  All  life  contends,  sometimes  ferociously 
but  more  often  bloodlessly  and  benignly,  and  the 
contention  results  in  momentary  equilibrium,  one  set 
of  contestants  balancing  another;  but  every  change 
in  the  outward  conditions  destroys  the  equation  and 
a  new  status  results.  Of  all  the  disturbing  living 
factors,  man  is  the  greatest.  He  sets  mighty  changes 

5 


The  Holy  Earth 

going,  destroying  forests,  upturning  the  sleeping 
prairies,  flooding  the  deserts,  deflecting  the  courses 
of  the  rivers,  building  great  cities.  He  operates 
consciously  and  increasingly  with  plan  aforethought; 
and  therefore  he  carries  heavy  responsibility. 

This  responsibility  is  recognized  in  the  Hebrew 
Scripture,  from  which  I  have  quoted;  and  I  quote 
it  again  because  I  know  of  no  other  Scripture  that 
states  it  so  well.  Man  is  given  the  image  of  the 
creator,  even  when  formed  from  the  dust  of  the 
earth,  so  complete  is  his  power  and  so  real  his  do- 
minion: And  God  blessed  them:  and  God  said  unto 
them,  Be  fruitful,  and  multiply,  and  replenish  the 
earth,  and  subdue  it;  and  have  dominion  over  the 
fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and 
over  every  living  thing  that  moveth  upon  the  earth. 

One  cannot  receive  all  these  privileges  without 
bearing  the  obligation  to  react  and  to  partake,  to 
keep,  to  cherish,  and  to  co-operate.  We  have  as- 
sumed that  there  is  no  obligation  to  an  inanimate 
thing,  as  we  consider  the  earth  to  be:  but  man 
should  respect  the  conditions  in  which  he  is  placed; 
the  earth  yields  the  living  creature;  man  is  a  living 
creature;  science  constantly  narrows  the  gulf  be- 
tween the  animate  and  the  inanimate,  between  the 
organized  and  the  inorganized;  evolution  derives  the 
creatures  from  the  earth;  the  creation  is  one  creation. 
I  must  accept  all  or  reject  all. 

6 


The  earth  is  good 

It  is  good  to  live.  We  talk  of  death  and  of  life- 
lessness,  but  we  know  only  of  life.  Even  our 
prophecies  of  death  are  prophecies  of  more  life. 
We  know  no  better  world:  whatever  else  there 
may  be  is  of  things  hoped  for,  not  of  things  seen. 
The  objects  are  here,  not  hidden  nor  far  to  seek: 
And  God  saw  everything  that  he  had  made,  and, 
behold,  it  was  very  good. 

These  good  things  are  the  present  things  and  the 
living  things.  The  account  is  silent  on  the  things 
that  were  not  created,  the  chaos,  the  darkness,  the 
abyss.  Plato,  in  the  "Republic,"  reasoned  that  the 
works  of  the  creator  must  be  good  because  the 
creator  is  good.  This  goodness  is  in  the  essence  of 
things;  and  we  sadly  need  to  make  it  a  part  in  our 
philosophy  of  life.  The  earth  is  the  scene  of  our 
life,  and  probably  the  very  source  of  it.  The  heaven, 
so  far  as  human  beings  know,  is  the  source  only  of 
death;  in  fact,  wTe  have  peopled  it  with  the  dead. 
We  have  built  our  philosophy  on  the  dead. 

We  seem  to  have  overlooked  the  goodness  of  the 
earth  in  the  establishing  of  our  affairs,  and  even  in 
our  philosophies.  It  is  reserved  as  a  theme  for 

7 


The  Holy  Earth 

preachers  and  for  poets.  And  yet,  the  goodness  of 
the  planet  is  the  basic  fact  in  our  existence. 

I  am  not  speaking  of  good  in  an  abstract  way,  in 
the  sense  in  which  some  of  us  suppose  the  creator 
to  have  expressed  himself  as  pleased  or  satisfied 
with  his  work.  The  earth  is  good  in  itself,  and  its 
products  are  good  in  themselves.  The  earth  sus- 
tains all  things.  It  satisfies.  It  matters  not  whether 
this  satisfaction  is  the  result  of  adaptation  in  the 
process  of  evolution;  the  fact  remains  that  the 
creation  is  good. 

To  the  common  man  the  earth  propounds  no  sys- 
tem of  philosophy  or  of  theology.  The  man  makes 
his  own  personal  contact,  deals  with  the  facts  as 
they  are  or  as  he  conceives  them  to  be,  and  is  not 
swept  into  any  system.  He  has  no  right  to  assume 
a  bad  or  evil  earth,  although  it  is  difficult  to  cast 
off  the  hindrance  of  centuries  of  teaching.  When 
he  is  properly  educated  he  will  get  a  new  resource 
from  his  relationships. 

It  may  be  difficult  to  demonstrate  this  goodness. 
In  the  nature  of  things  we  must  assume  it,  although 
we  know  that  we  could  not  subsist  on  a  sphere  of 
the  opposite  qualities.  The  important  considera- 
tion is  that  we  appreciate  it,  and  this  not  in  any 
sentimental  and  impersonal  way.  To  every  bird 
the  air  is  good;  and  a  man  knows  it  is  good  if  he  is 
worth  being  a  man.  To  every  fish  the  water  is 

8 


The  Earth  is  Good 

good.  To  every  beast  its  food  is  good,  and  its  time 
of  sleep  is  good.  The  creatures  experience  that 
life  is  good.  Every  man  in  his  heart  knows  that 
there  is  goodness  and  wholeness  in  the  rain,  in 
the  wind,  the  soil,  the  sea,  the  glory  of  sunrise, 
in  the  trees,  and  in  the  sustenance  that  we  derive 
from  the  planet.  When  we  grasp  the  significance 
of  this  situation,  we  shall  forever  supplant  the  re- 
ligion of  fear  with  a  religion  of  consent. 

We  are  so  accustomed  to  these  essentials — to  the 
rain,  the  wind,  the  soil,  the  sea,  the  sunrise,  the 
trees,  the  sustenance — that  we  may  not  include 
them  in  the  categories  of  the  good  things,  and  we 
endeavor  to  satisfy  ourselves  with  many  small  and 
trivial  and  exotic  gratifications;  and  when  these 
gratifications  fail  or  pall,  we  find  ourselves  helpless 
and  resourceless.  The  joy  of  sound  sleep,  the  relish 
of  a  sufficient  meal  of  plain  and  wholesome  food,  the 
desire  to  do  a  good  day's  work  and  the  recompense 
when  at  night  we  are  tired  from  the  doing  of  it,  the 
exhilaration  of  fresh  air,  the  exercise  of  the  natural 
powers,  the  mastery  of  a  situation  or  a  problem, — 
these  and  many  others  like  them  are  fundamental 
satisfactions,  beyond  all  pampering  and  all  toys, 
and  they  are  of  the  essence  of  goodness.  I  think 
we  should  teach  all  children  how  good  are  the  com- 
mon necessities,  and  how  very  good  are  the  things 
that  are  made  in  the  beginning. 

9 


It  is  kindly 

We  hear  much  about  man  being  at  the  mercy  of 
nature,  and  the  literalist  will  contend  that  there  can 
be  no  holy  relation  under  such  conditions.  But  so 
is  man  at  the  mercy  of  God. 

It  is  a  blasphemous  practice  that  speaks  of  the  hos- 
tility of  the  earth,  as  if  the  earth  were  full  of  menaces 
and  cataclysms.  The  old  fear  of  nature,  that  peo- 
pled the  earth  and  sky  with  imps  and  demons,  and 
that  gave  a  future  state  to  Satan,  yet  possesses  the 
minds  of  men,  only  that  we  may  have  ceased  to 
personify  and  to  demonize  our  fears,  although  we 
still  persistently  contrast  what  we  call  the  evil  and 
the  good.  Still  do  we  attempt  to  propitiate  and 
appease  the  adversaries.  Still  do  we  carry  the  ban 
of  the  early  philosophy  that  assumed  materials 
and  "the  flesh"  to  be  evil,  and  that  found  a  way 
of  escape  only  in  renunciation  and  asceticism. 

Nature  cannot  be  antagonistic  to  man,  seeing 
that  man  is  a  product  of  nature.  We  should  find 
vast  joy  in  the  fellowship,  something  like  the  joy 
of  Pan.  We  should  feel  the  relief  when  we  no 
longer  apologize  for  the  creator  because  of  the 
things  that  are  made. 

10 


It  is  Kindly 

It  is  true  that  there  are  devastations  of  flood  and 
fire  and  frost,  scourge  of  disease,  and  appalling  con- 
vulsions of  earthquake  and  eruption.  But  man 
prospers;  and  we  know  that  the  catastrophes  are 
greatly  fewer  than  the  accepted  bounties.  We  have 
no  choice  but  to  abide.  No  growth  comes  from 
hostility.  It  would  undoubtedly  be  a  poor  human 
race  if  all  the  pathway  had  been  plain  and  easy. 

The  contest  with  nature  is  wholesome,  particu- 
larly when  pursued  in  sympathy  and  for  mastery. 
It  is  worthy  a  being  created  in  God's  image.  The 
earth  is  perhaps  a  stern  earth,  but  it  is  a  kindly 
earth. 

Most  of  our  difficulty  with  the  earth  lies  in  the 
effort  to  do  what  perhaps  ought  not  to  be  done. 
Not  even  all  the  land  is  fit  to  be  farmed.  A  good 
part  of  agriculture  is  to  learn  how  to  adapt  one's 
work  to  nature,  to  fit  the  crop-scheme  to  the  cli- 
mate and  to  the  soil  and  the  facilities.  To  live  in 
right  relation  with  his  natural  conditions  is  one  of 
the  first  lessons  that  a  wise  farmer  or  any  other 
wise  man  learns.  We  are  at  pains  to  stress  the  im- 
portance of  conduct;  very  well:  conduct  toward  the 
earth  is  an  essential  part  of  it. 

Nor  need  we  be  afraid  of  any  fact  that  makes  one 
fact  more  or  less  in  the  sum  of  contacts  between  the 
earth  and  the  earth-born  children.  All  "higher  crit- 
icism" adds  to  the  faith  rather  than  subtracts  from 

11 


The  Holy  Earth 

it,  and  strengthens  the  bond  between.  The  earth 
and  its  products  are  very  real. 

Our  outlook  has  been  drawn  very  largely  from  the 
abstract.  Not  being  yet  prepared  to  understand  the 
conditions  of  nature,  man  considered  the  earth  to 
be  inhospitable,  and  he  looked  to  the  supernatural 
for  relief;  and  relief  was  heaven.  Our  pictures  of 
heaven  are  of  the  opposites  of  daily  experience, — of 
release,  of  peace,  of  joy  uninterrupted.  The  hunt- 
ing-grounds are  happy  and  the  satisfaction  has  no 
end.  The  habit  of  thought  has  been  set  by  this  con- 
ception, and  it  colors  our  dealings  with  the  human 
questions  and  to  much  extent  it  controls  our  prac- 
tice. 

But  we  begin  to  understand  that  the  best  dealing 
with  problems  on  earth  is  to  found  it  on  the  facts  of 
earth.  This  is  the  contribution  of  natural  science, 
however  abstract,  to  human  welfare.  Heaven  is  to 
be  a  real  consequence  of  life  on  earth;  and  we  do 
not  lessen  the  hope  of  heaven  by  increasing  our  affec- 
tion for  the  earth,  but  rather  do  we  strengthen  it. 
Men  now  forget  the  old  images  of  heaven,  that  they 
are  mere  sojourners  and  wanderers  lingering  for  de- 
liverance, pilgrims  in  a  strange  land.  Waiting  for 
this  rescue,  with  posture  and  formula  and  phrase, 
we  have  overlooked  the  essential  goodness  and 
quickness  of  the  earth  and  the  immanence  of  God. 

This  feeling  that  we  are  pilgrims  in  a  vale  of  tears 
12 


It  is  Kindly 

has  been  enhanced  by  the  wide-spread  belief  in  the 
sudden  ending  of  the  world,  by  collision  or  some 
other  impending  disaster,  and  in  the  common  appre- 
hension of  doom;  and  lately  by  speculations  as  to 
the  aridation  and  death  of  the  planet,  to  which  all 
of  us  have  given  more  or  less  credence.  But  most 
of  these  notions  are  now  considered  to  be  fantastic, 
and  we  are  increasingly  confident  that  the  earth  is 
not  growing  old  in  a  human  sense,  that  its  atmosphere 
and  its  water  are  held  by  the  attraction  of  its  mass, 
and  that  the  sphere  is  at  all  events  so  permanent 
as  to  make  little  difference  in  our  philosophy  and 
no  difference  in  our  good  behavior. 

I  am  again  impressed  with  the  first  record  in 
Genesis  in  which  some  mighty  prophet-poet  began 
his  account  with  the  creation  of  the  physical  uni- 
verse. 

So  do  we  forget  the  old-time  importance  given  to 
mere  personal  salvation,  which  was  permission  to 
live  in  heaven,  and  we  think  more  of  our  present 
situation,  which  is  the  situation  of  obligation  and 
of  service;  and  he  who  loses  his  life  shall  save  it. 

We  begin  to  foresee  the  vast  religion  of  a  better 
social  order. 


13 


The  earth  is  holy 

Verily,  then,  the  earth  is  divine,  because  man  did 
not  make  it.  We  are  here,  part  in  the  creation.  We 
cannot  escape.  We  are  under  obligation  to  take 
part  and  to  do  our  best,  living  with  each  other  and 
with  all  the  creatures.  We  may  not  know  the  full 
plan,  but  that  does  not  alter  the  relation.  When 
once  we  set  ourselves  to  the  pleasure  of  our  domin- 
ion, reverently  and  hopefully,  and  assume  all  its  re- 
sponsibilities, we  shall  have  a  new  hold  on  life. 

We  shall  put  our  dominion  into  the  realm  of 
morals.  It  is  now  in  the  realm  of  trade.  This  will 
be  very  personal  morals,  but  it  will  also  be  national 
and  racial  morals.  More  iniquity  follows  the  im- 
proper and  greedy  division  of  the  resources  and 
privileges  of  the  earth  than  any  other  form  of  sin- 
fulness. 

If  God  created  the  earth,  so  is  the  earth  hal- 
lowed; and  if  it  is  hallowed,  so  must  we  deal  with 
it  devotedly  and  with  care  that  we  do  not  despoil 
it,  and  mindful  of  our  relations  to  all  beings  that 
live  on  it.  We  are  to  consider  it  religiously:  Put 
off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  whereon 
thou  standest  is  holy  ground. 

14 


The  Earth  is  Holy 

The  sacredness  to  us  of  the  earth  is  intrinsic  and 
inherent.  It  lies  in  our  necessary  relationship  and 
in  the  duty  imposed  upon  us  to  have  dominion,  and 
to  exercise  ourselves  even  against  our  own  interests. 
We  may  not  waste  that  which  is  not  ours.  To  live 
in  sincere  relations  with  the  company  of  created 
things  and  with  conscious  regard  for  the  support 
of  all  men  now  and  yet  to  come,  must  be  of  the 
essence  of  righteousness. 

This  is  a  larger  and  more  original  relation  than 
the  modern  attitude  of  appreciation  and  admiration 
of  nature.  In  the  days  of  the  patriarchs  and  proph- 
ets, nature  and  man  shared  in  the  condemnation 
and  likewise  in  the  redemption.  The  ground  was 
cursed  for  Adam's  sin.  Paul  wrote  that  the  whole 
creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain,  and  that 
it  waiteth  for  the  revealing.  Isaiah  proclaimed  the 
redemption  of  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place 
with  the  redemption  of  man,  when  they  shall  re- 
joice and  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  when  the  glowing 
sand  shall  become  a  pool  and  the  thirsty  ground 
springs  of  water. 

The  usual  objects  have  their  moral  significance. 
An  oak-tree  is  to  us  a  moral  object  because  it  lives  its 
life  regularly  and  fulfils  its  destiny.  In  the  wind 
and  in  the  stars,  in  forest  and  by  the  shore,  there  is 
spiritual  refreshment:  And  the  spirit  of  God  moved 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters. 

15 


The  Holy  Earth 

I  do  not  mean  all  this,  for  our  modern  world,  in 
any  vague  or  abstract  way.  If  the  earth  is  holy, 
then  the  things  that  grow  out  of  the  earth  are  also 
holy.  They  do  not  belong  to  man  to  do  with  them 
as  he  will.  Dominion  does  not  carry  personal  own- 
ership. There  are  many  generations  of  folk  yet  to 
come  after  us,  who  will  have  equal  right  with  us  to 
the  products  of  the  globe.  It  would  seem  that  a 
divine  obligation  rests  on  every  soul.  Are  we  to 
make  righteous  use  of  the  vast  accumulation  of 
knowledge  of  the  planet?  If  so,  we  must  have  a 
new  formulation.  The  partition  of  the  earth  among 
the  millions  who  live  on  it  is  necessarily  a  question 
of  morals;  and  a  society  that  is  founded  on  an 
unmoral  partition  and  use  cannot  itself  be  righteous 
and  whole. 


1G 


Second,  the  Consequences 

I  HAVE  now  stated  my  purpose;  and  the  remainder 
of  the  little  book  will  make  some  simple  applications 
of  it  and  draw  some  inferences  therefrom.  There  is 
nothing  here  that  need  alarm  the  timid,  albeit  we 
enter  a  disputed  field,  a  field  of  opinion  rather  than 
of  demonstration;  and  if  the  reader  goes  with  me, 
I  trust  that  we  may  have  a  pleasant  journey. 

It  is  to  be  a  journey  of  recognition,  not  of  pro- 
test. It  is  needful  that  we  do  not  forget. 

We  are  not  to  enter  into  a  course  of  reasoning 
with  those  whom  we  meet  on  the  way,  or  to  pause 
to  debate  the  definitions  and  analyses  made  in 
books,  or  to  deny  any  of  the  satisfactions  of  tradi- 
tion. We  shall  be  ready  for  impressions;  and  pos- 
sibly we  shall  be  able  to  find  some  of  the  old  truths 
in  unfrequented  places. 


17 


The  habit  of  destruction 

The  first  observation  that  must  be  apparent  to 
all  men  is  that  our  dominion  has  been  mostly  de- 
structive. 

We  have  been  greatly  engaged  in  digging  up  the 
stored  resources,  and  in  destroying  vast  products  of 
the  earth  for  some  small  kernel  that  we  can  apply 
to  our  necessities  or  add  to  our  enjoyments.  We 
excavate  the  best  of  the  coal  and  cast  away  the  re- 
mainder; blast  the  minerals  and  metals  from  under- 
neath the  crust,  and  leave  the  earth  raw  and  sore; 
we  box  the  pines  for  turpentine  and  abandon  the 
growths  of  limitless  years  to  fire  and  devastation; 
sweep  the  forests  with  the  besom  of  destruction; 
pull  the  fish  from  the  rivers  and  ponds  without 
making  any  adequate  provision  for  renewal;  extermi- 
nate whole  races  of  animals;  choke  the  streams  with 
refuse  and  dross;  rob  the  land  of  its  available  stores, 
denuding  the  surface,  exposing  great  areas  to  erosion. 

Nor  do  we  exercise  the  care  and  thrift  of  good 
housekeepers.  We  do  not  clean  up  our  work  or 
leave  the  earth  in  order.  The  remnants  and  ac- 
cumulation of  mining-camps  are  left  to  ruin  and 
decay;  the  deserted  phosphate  excavations  are 
ragged,  barren,  and  unfilled;  vast  areas  of  forested 

18 


The  Habit  of  Destruction 

lands  are  left  in  brush  and  waste,  unthoughtful  of 
the  future,  unmindful  of  the  years  that  must  be 
consumed  to  reduce  the  refuse  to  mould  and  to 
cover  the  surface  respectably,  uncharitable  to  those 
who  must  clear  away  the  wastes  and  put  the  place 
in  order;  and  so  thoughtless  are  we  with  these 
natural  resources  that  even  the  establishments  that 
manufacture  them — the  mills,  the  factories  of  many 
kinds — are  likely  to  be  offensive  objects  in  the 
landscape,  unclean,  unkempt,  displaying  the  uncon- 
cern of  the  owners  to  the  obligation  that  the  use  of 
the  materials  imposes  and  to  the  sensibilities  of  the 
community  for  the  way  in  which  they  handle  them. 
The  burden  of  proof  seems  always  to  have  been 
rested  on  those  who  partake  little  in  the  benefits, 
although  we  know  that  these  non-partakers  have 
been  real  owners  of  the  resources;  and  yet  so  unde- 
veloped has  been  the  public  conscience  in  these 
matters  that  the  blame — if  blame  there  be — can- 
not be  laid  on  one  group  more  than  on  the  other. 
Strange  it  is,  however,  that  we  should  not  have 
insisted  at  least  that  those  who  appropriate  the  ac- 
cumulations of  the  earth  should  complete  their 
work,  cleaning  up  the  remainders,  leaving  the  areas 
wholesome,  inoffensive,  and  safe.  How  many  and 
many  are  the  years  required  to  grow  a  forest  and 
to  fill  the  pockets  of  the  rocks,  and  how  satisfying 
are  the  landscapes,  and  yet  how  desperately  soon 

19 


The  Holy  Earth 

may  men  reduce  it  all  to  ruin  and  to  emptiness, 
and  how  slatternly  may  they  violate  the  scenery ! 

All  this  habit  of  destructiveness  is  uneconomic  in 
the  best  sense,  unsocial,  unmoral. 

Society  now  begins  to  demand  a  constructive  pro- 
cess. With  care  and  with  regard  for  other  men,  we 
must  produce  the  food  and  the  other  supplies  in 
regularity  and  sufficiency;  and  we  must  clean  up 
after  our  work,  that  the  earth  may  not  be  depleted, 
scarred,  or  repulsive. 

Yet  there  is  even  a  more  defenseless  devastation 
than  all  this.  It  is  the  organized  destructiveness 
of  those  who  would  make  military  domination  the 
major  premise  in  the  constitution  of  society,  accom- 
panying desolation  wTith  viciousness  and  violence, 
ravaging  the  holy  earth,  disrespecting  the  works  of 
the  creator,  looking  toward  extirpation,  confessing 
thereby  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  live  in  co- 
operation with  their  fellows;  in  such  situations,  every 
new  implement  of  destruction  adds  to  the  guilt. 

In  times  past  we  were  moved  by  religious  fanati- 
cism, even  to  the  point  of  waging  wars.  To-day  we 
are  moved  by  impulses  of  trade,  and  we  find  our- 
selves plunged  into  a  war  of  commercial  frenzy;  and 
as  it  has  behind  it  vaster  resources  and  more  com- 
mand of  natural  forces,  so  is  it  the  most  ferocious 
and  wasteful  that  the  race  has  experienced,  exceed- 
ing in  its  havoc  the  cataclysms  of  earthquake  and 

20 


The  Habit  of  Destruction 

volcano.  Certainly  we  have  not  yet  learned  how 
to  withstand  the  prosperity  and  the  privileges  that 
we  have  gained  by  the  discoveries  of  science;  and 
certainly  the  morals  of  commerce  has  not  given  us 
freedom  or  mastery.  Rivalry  that  leads  to  arms  is 
a  natural  fruit  of  unrestrained  rivalry  in  trade. 

Man  has  dominion,  but  he  has  no  commission  to 
devastate :  And  the  Lord  God  took  the  man,  and  put 
him  into  the  garden  of  Eden  to  dress  it  and  to  keep  it. 

Verily,  so  bountiful  hath  been  the  earth  and  so 
securely  have  we  drawn  from  it  our  substance,  that 
we  have  taken  it  all  for  granted  as  if  it  were  only  a 
gift,  and  with  little  care  or  conscious  thought  of  the 
consequences  of  our  use  of  it. 


21 


The  new  hold 

We  may  distinguish  three  stages  in  our  relation  to 
the  planet, — the  collecting  stage,  the  mining  stage, 
and  the  producing  stage.  These  overlap  and  per- 
haps are  nowhere  distinct,  and  yet  it  serves  a  pur- 
pose to  contrast  them. 

At  first  man  sweeps  the  earth  to  see  what  he  may 
gather, — game,  wood,  fruits,  fish,  fur,  feathers,  shells 
on  the  shore.  A  certain  social  and  moral  life  arises 
out  of  this  relation,  seen  well  in  the  woodsmen  and 
the  fishers — in  whom  it  best  persists  to  the  present 
day — strong,  dogmatic,  superstitious  folk.  Then 
man  begins  to  go  beneath  the  surface  to  see  what  he 
can  find, — iron  and  precious  stones,  the  gold  of 
Ophir,  coal,  and  many  curious  treasures.  This  de- 
velops the  exploiting  faculties,  and  leads  men  into 
the  uttermost  parts.  In  both  these  stages  the  ele- 
ments of  waste  and  disregard  have  been  heavy. 

Finally,  we  begin  to  enter  the  productive  stage, 
whereby  we  secure  supplies  by  controlling  the  con- 
ditions under  which  they  grow,  wasting  little,  harm- 
ing not.  Farming  has  been  very  much  a  mining 
process,  the  utilizing  of  fertility  easily  at  hand  and 

22 


The  New  Hold 

the  moving-on  to  lands  unspoiled  of  quick  potash 
and  nitrogen.  Now  it  begins  to  be  really  produc- 
tive and  constructive,  with  a  range  of  responsible 
and  permanent  morals.  We  rear  the  domestic 
animals  with  precision.  We  raise  crops,  when  we 
will,  almost  to  a  nicety.  We  plant  fish  in  lakes  and 
streams  to  some  extent  but  chiefly  to  provide  more 
game  rather  than  more  human  food,  for  in  this  range 
we  are  yet  mostly  in  the  collecting  or  hunter  stage. 
If  the  older  stages  were  strongly  expressed  in  the 
character  of  the  people,  so  will  this  new  stage  be 
expressed;  and  so  is  it  that  we  are  escaping  the 
primitive  and  should  be  coming  into  a  new  char- 
acter. We  shall  find  our  rootage  in  the  soil. 

This  new  character,  this  clearer  sense  of  relation- 
ship with  the  earth,  should  express  itself  in  all  the 
people  and  not  exclusively  in  farming  people  and 
their  like.  It  should  be  a  popular  character — or  a 
national  character  if  we  would  limit  the  discussion 
to  one  people — and  not  a  class  character.  Now, 
here  lies  a  difficulty  and  here  is  a  reason  for  writing 
this  book:  the  population  of  the  earth  is  increasing, 
the  relative  population  of  farmers  is  decreasing, 
people  are  herding  in  cities,  we  have  a  city  mind, 
and  relatively  fewer  people  are  brought  into  touch 
with  the  earth  in  any  real  way.  So  is  it  incumbent 
on  us  to  take  special  pains — now  that  we  see  the  new 
time — that  all  the  people,  or  as  many  of  them  as 

23 


The  Holy  Earth 

possible,  shall  have  contact  with  the  earth  and  that 
the  earth  righteousness  shall  be  abundantly  taught. 

I  hasten  to  say  that  I  am  not  thinking  of  any 
back-to-the-farm  movement  to  bring  about  the 
results  we  seek.  Necessarily,  the  proportion  of 
farmers  will  decrease.  Not  so  many  are  needed, 
relatively,  to  produce  the  requisite  supplies  from  the 
earth.  Agriculture  makes  a  great  contribution  to 
human  progress  by  releasing  men  for  the  manu- 
factures and  the  trades.  In  proportion  as  the  ratio 
of  farmers  decreases  is  it  important  that  we  provide 
them  the  best  of  opportunities  and  encouragement: 
they  must  be  better  and  better  men.  And  if  we 
are  to  secure  our  moral  connection  with  the  planet 
to  a  large  extent  through  them,  we  can  see  that 
they  bear  a  relation  to  society  in  general  that  we 
have  overlooked. 

Even  the  farming  itself  is  changing  radically  in 
character.  It  ceases  to  be  an  occupation  to  gain 
sustenance  and  becomes  a  business.  We  apply  to 
it  the  general  attitudes  of  commerce.  We  must  be 
alert  to  see  that  it  does  not  lose  its  capacity  for 
spiritual  contact. 

How  we  may  achieve  a  more  wide-spread  contact 
with  the  earth  on  the  part  of  all  the  people  with- 
out making  them  farmers,  I  shall  endeavor  to  sug- 
gest as  I  proceed;  in  fact,  this  is  my  theme.  Do- 
minion means  mastery;  we  may  make  the  surface 

24 


The  New  Hold 

of  the  earth  much  what  we  will ;  we  can  govern  the 
way  in  which  we  shall  contemplate  it.  We  are 
probably  near  something  like  a  stable  occupancy. 
It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  there  will  be  vast  shift- 
ing of  cities  as  the  contest  for  the  mastery  of  the 
earth  proceeds, — probably  nothing  like  the  loss  of 
Tyre  and  Carthage,  and  of  the  commercial  glory  of 
Venice.  In  fact,  we  shall  have  a  progressive  occu- 
pancy. The  greater  the  population,  the  greater  will 
be  the  demands  on  the  planet;  and,  moreover, 
every  new  man  will  make  more  demands  than  his 
father  made,  for  he  will  want  more  to  satisfy  him. 
We  are  to  take  from  the  earth  much  more  than  we 
have  ever  taken  before,  but  it  will  be  taken  in  a 
new  way  and  with  better  intentions.  It  will  be  seen, 
therefore,  that  we  are  not  here  dealing  narrowly 
with  an  occupation  but  with  something  very  fun- 
damental to  our  life  on  the  planet. 

We  are  not  to  look  for  our  permanent  civilization 
to  rest  on  any  species  of  robber-economy.  No 
flurry  of  coal-mining,  or  gold-fever,  or  rubber-col- 
lecting in  the  tropics,  or  excitement  of  prospecting 
for  new  finds  or  even  locating  new  lands,  no  ravish- 
ing of  the  earth  or  monopolistic  control  of  its  boun- 
ties, will  build  a  stable  society.  So  is  much  of  our 
economic  and  social  fabric  transitory.  It  is  not  by 
accident  that  a  very  distinct  form  of  society  is  de- 
veloping in  the  great  farming  regions  of  the  Missis- 

25 


The  Holy  Earth 

sippi  Valley  and  in  other  comparable  places;  the 
exploiting  and  promoting  occupancy  of  those  lands 
is  passing  and  a  stable  progressive  development 
appears.  We  have  been  obsessed  of  the  passion  to 
cover  everything  at  once,  to  skin  the  earth,  to  pass 
on,  even  when  there  was  no  necessity  for  so  doing. 
It  is  a  vast  pity  that  this  should  ever  have  been  the 
policy  of  government  in  giving  away  great  tracts 
of  land  by  lottery,  as  if  our  fingers  would  burn  if 
we  held  the  lands  inviolate  until  needed  by  the 
natural  process  of  settlement.  The  people  should 
be  kept  on  their  lands  long  enough  to  learn  how  to 
use  them.  But  very  well:  we  have  run  with  the 
wind,  we  have  staked  the  lands;  now  we  shall  be 
real  farmers  and  real  conquerors.  Not  all  lands 
are  equally  good  for  farming,  and  some  lands  will 
never  be  good  for  farming;  but  whether  in  Iowa,  or 
New  England,  or  old  Asia,  farming  land  may  de- 
velop character  in  the  people. 

My  reader  must  not  infer  that  we  have  arrived 
at  a  permanent  agriculture,  although  we  begin  now 
to  see  the  importance  of  a  permanent  land  occu- 
pancy. Probably  we  have  not  yet  evolved  a  satis- 
fying husbandry  that  will  maintain  itself  century  by 
century,  without  loss  and  without  the  ransacking 
of  the  ends  of  the  earth  for  fertilizer  materials  to 
make  good  our  deficiencies.  All  the  more  is  it  im- 
portant that  the  problem  be  elevated  into  the  realm 

26 


The  New  Hold 

of  statesmanship  and  of  morals.  Neither  must  he 
infer  that  the  resources  of  the  earth  are  to  be  locked 
up  beyond  contact  and  use  (for  the  contact  and  use 
will  be  morally  regulated).  But  no  system  of  bril- 
liant exploitation,  and  no  accidental  scratching  of 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  no  easy  appropriation 
of  stored  materials  can  suffice  us  in  the  good  days 
to  come.  City,  country,  this  class  and  that  class, 
all  fall  and  merge  before  the  common  necessity. 

It  is  often  said  that  the  farmer  is  our  financial 
mainstay;  so  in  the  good  process  of  time  will  he  be 
a  moral  mainstay,  for  ultimately  finance  and  social 
morals  must  coincide. 

The  gifts  are  to  be  used  for  service  and  for 
satisfaction,  and  not  for  wealth.  Very  great  wealth 
introduces  too  many  intermediaries,  too  great  in- 
directness, too  much  that  is  extrinsic,  too  frequent 
hindrances  and  superficialities.  It  builds  a  wall 
about  the  man,  and  too  often  does  he  receive  his 
impressions  of  the  needs  of  the  world  from  satellites 
and  sycophants.  It  is  significant  that  great  wealth, 
if  it  contributes  much  to  social  service,  usually  ac- 
complishes the  result  by  endowing  others  to  work. 
The  gift  of  the  products  of  the  earth  was  "  for  meat " : 
nothing  was  said  about  riches. 

Yet  the  very  appropriation  or  use  of  natural  re- 
sources may  be  the  means  of  directing  the  mind  of 
the  people  back  to  the  native  situations.  We  have 

27 


The  Holy  Earth 

the  opportunity  to  make  the  forthcoming  develop- 
ment of  water-power,  for  example,  such  an  agency 
for  wholesome  training.  Whenever  we  can  appro- 
priate without  despoliation  or  loss,  or  without  a 
damaging  monopoly,  we  tie  the  people  to  the  back- 
grounds. 

In  the  background  is  the  countryman;  and  how 
is  the  countryman  to  make  use  of  the  rain  and  the 
abounding  soil,  and  the  varied  wonder  of  plant  and 
animal  amidst  which  he  lives,  that  he  may  arrive  at 
kinship?  We  are  teaching  him  how  to  bring  some 
of  these  things  under  the  dominion  of  his  hands,  how 
to  measure  and  to  weigh  and  to  judge.  This  will 
give  him  the  essential  physical  mastery.  But  be- 
yond this,  how  shall  he  take  them  into  himself,  how 
shall  he  make  them  to  be  of  his  spirit,  how  shall  he 
complete  his  dominion?  How  shall  he  become  the 
man  that  his  natural  position  requires  of  him  ?  This 
will  come  slowly,  ah,  yes ! — slowly.  The  people — 
the  great  striving  self-absorbed  throng  of  the  peo- 
ple— they  do  not  know  what  we  mean  when  we 
talk  like  this,  they  hear  only  so  many  fine  words. 
The  naturist  knows  that  the  time  will  come  slowly, 
— not  yet  are  we  ready  for  fulfilment;  he  knows 
that  we  cannot  regulate  the  cosmos,  or  even  the 
natural  history  of  the  people,  by  enactments. 
Slowly:  by  removing  handicaps  here  and  there; 
by  selection  of  the  folk  in  a  natural  process,  to  elim- 

28 


The  New  Hold 

inate  the  unresponsive;  by  teaching,  by  suggestion; 
by  a  public  recognition  of  the  problem,  even  though 
not  one  of  us  sees  the  end  of  it. 

I  hope  my  reader  now  sees  where  I  am  leading 
him.  He  sees  that  I  am  not  thinking  merely  of 
instructing  the  young  in  the  names  and  habits  of 
birds  and  flowers  and  other  pleasant  knowledge,  al- 
though this  works  strongly  toward  the  desired  end; 
nor  of  any  movement  merely  to  have  gardens,  or 
to  own  farms,  although  this  is  desirable  provided 
one  is  qualified  to  own  a  farm;  nor  of  rhapsodies  on 
the  beauties  of  nature.  Nor  am  I  thinking  of  any 
new  plan  or  any  novel  kind  of  institution  or  any 
new  agency;  rather  shall  we  do  better  to  escape 
some  of  the  excessive  institutionalism  and  organiza- 
tion. We  are  so  accustomed  to  think  in  terms  of 
organized  politics  and  education  and  religion  and 
philanthropies  that  when  we  detach  ourselves  we 
are  said  to  lack  definiteness.  It  is  the  personal  satis- 
faction in  the  earth  to  which  we  are  born,  and  the 
quickened  responsibility,  the  whole  relation,  broadly 
developed,  of  the  man  and  of  all  men, — it  is  this 
attitude  that  we  are  to  discuss. 

The  years  pass  and  they  grow  into  centuries. 
We  see  more  clearly.  We  are  to  take  a  new  hold. 


29 


The  brotherhood  relation 

A  constructive  and  careful  handling  of  the  re- 
sources of  the  earth  is  impossible  except  on  a  basis 
of  large  co-operation  and  of  association  for  mutual 
welfare.  The  great  inventions  and  discoveries  of 
recent  time  have  extensive  social  significance. 

Yet  we  have  other  relations  than  with  the  physical 
and  static  materials.  We  are  parts  in  a  living  sen- 
sitive creation.  The  theme  of  evolution  has  over- 
turned our  attitude  toward  this  creation.  The  living 
creation  is  not  exclusively  man-centred:  it  is  bio- 
centric.  We  perceive  the  essential  continuity  in 
nature,  arising  from  within  rather  than  from  with- 
out, the  forms  of  life  proceeding  upwardly  and  on- 
wardly  in  something  very  like  a  mighty  plan  of 
sequence,  man  being  one  part  in  the  process.  We 
have  genetic  relation  with  all  living  things,  and  our 
aristocracy  is  the  aristocracy  of  nature.  W'e  can 
claim  no  gross  superiority  and  no  isolated  self- 
importance.  The  creation,  and  not  man,  is  the 
norm.  Even  now  do  we  begin  to  guide  our  prac- 
tises and  our  speech  by  our  studies  of  what  we  still 
call  the  lower  creation.  We  gain  a  good  perspective 
on  ourselves. 

30 


The  Brotherhood  Relation 

If  we  are  parts  in  the  evolution,  and  if  the  uni- 
verse, or  even  the  earth,  is  not  made  merely  as  a 
footstool,  or  as  a  theatre  for  man,  so  do  we  lose 
our  cosmic  selfishness  and  we  find  our  place  in  the 
plan  of  things.  We  are  emancipated  from  igno- 
rance and  superstition  and  small  philosophies.  The 
present  wide-spread  growth  of  the  feeling  of  brother- 
hood would  have  been  impossible  in  a  self-centred 
creation :  the  way  has  been  prepared  by  the  discus- 
sion of  evolution,  which  is  the  major  biological  con- 
tribution to  human  welfare  and  progress.  This  is 
the  philosophy  of  the  oneness  in  nature  and  the 
unity  in  living  things. 


Tlie  farmer's  relation 

The  surface  of  the  earth  is  particularly  within 
the  care  of  the  farmer.  He  keeps  it  for  his  own 
sustenance  and  gain,  but  his  gain  is  also  the  gain 
of  all  the  rest  of  us.  At  the  best,  he  accumulates 
little  to  himself.  The  successful  farmer  is  the  one 
who  produces  more  than  he  needs  for  his  support; 
and  the  overplus  he  does  not  keep;  and,  moreover, 
his  own  needs  are  easily  satisfied.  It  is  of  the  utmost 
consequence  that  the  man  next  the  earth  shall  lead 
a  fair  and  simple  life;  for  in  riotous  living  he  might 
halt  many  good  supplies  that  now  go  to  his  fellows. 

It  is  a  public  duty  so  to  train  the  farmer  that  he 
shall  appreciate  his  guardianship.  He  is  engaged 
in  a  quasi-public  business.  He  really  does  not 
even  own  his  land.  He  does  not  take  his  land 
with  him,  but  only  the  personal  development  that 
he  gains  from  it.  He  cannot  annihilate  his  land,  as 
another  might  destroy  all  his  belongings.  He  is  the 
agent  or  the  representative  of  society  to  guard  and 
to  subdue  the  surface  of  the  earth;  and  he  is  the 
agent  of  the  divinity  that  made  it.  He  must  exer- 
cise his  dominion  with  due  regard  to  all  these  obli- 
gations. He  is  a  trustee.  The  productiveness  of 

32 


The  Farmer's  Relation 

the  earth  must  increase  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion: this  also  is  his  obligation.  He  must  handle 
all  his  materials,  remembering  man  and  remember- 
ing God.  A  man  cannot  be  a  good  farmer  unless 
he  is  a  religious  man. 

If  the  farmer  is  engaged  in  a  quasi-public  busi- 
ness, shall  we  undertake  to  regulate  him  ?  This  re- 
lationship carries  a  vast  significance  to  the  social 
order,  and  it  must  color  our  attitude  toward  the 
man  on  the  land.  We  are  now  in  that  epoch  of 
social  development  when  we  desire  to  regulate  by 
law  everything  that  is  regulatable  and  the  other 
things  besides.  It  is  recently  proposed  that  the 
Congress  shall  pass  a  law  regulating  the  cropping 
scheme  of  the  farmer  for  the  protection  of  soil  fer- 
tility. This  follows  the  precedent  of  the  regulation, 
by  enactment,  of  trusts  and  public  utilities.  It  is 
fortunate  that  such  a  law  cannot  be  passed,  and 
could  not  be  enforced  if  it  were  passed ;  but  this  and 
related  proposals  are  crude  expressions  of  the  grow- 
ing feeling  that  the  farmer  owes  an  obligation  to 
society,  and  that  this  obligation  must  be  enforced 
and  the  tiller  of  the  soil  be  held  to  account. 

We  shall  produce  a  much  better  and  safer  man 
when  we  make  him  self-controlling  by  developing 
his  sense  of  responsibility  than  when  we  regulate 
him  by  exterior  enactments. 

In  the  realm  of  control  of  the  farming  occupation 
33 


The  Holy  Earth 

we  shall  invoke  other  than  legal  means,  and  perhaps 
these  means  will  be  suggestive  for  other  situations. 
These  means  may  be  somewhat  indefinite  in  the 
law-book  sense,  but  they  may  attain  to  a  better 
human  result.  We  shall  reach  the  question  by 
surer  ways  than  the  crudities  of  legislation.  We 
shall  reach  the  man,  in  this  field,  rather  than  his 
business.  We  have  begun  it  by  accepting  it  as  one 
part  of  our  duty  to  the  race  to  provide  liberally  at 
public  expense  for  the  special  education  of  the  man 
on  the  land.  This  is  the  reason,  even  if  we  have 
not  formulated  it  to  ourselves,  why  society  is  willing 
to  go  farther  in  the  education  of  the  farming  peo- 
ple than  in  the  popular  education  of  other  ranges 
of  the  people.  This,  of  course,  is  the  fundamental 
way;  and  if  there  are  any  governments  that  at- 
tempt to  safeguard  this  range  directly  by  laws 
rather  than  by  education,  then  they  have  not  ar- 
rived at  a  long  view  of  the  situation. 

We  invoke  regulatory  law  for  the  control  of  the 
corporate  activities;  but  we  must  not  forget  the 
other  kinds  of  activities  contributing  to  the  making 
of  society,  nor  attempt  to  apply  to  them  the  same 
methods  of  correction. 

Into  this  secular  and  more  or  less  technical  educa- 
tion we  are  now  to  introduce  the  element  of  moral 
obligation,  that  the  man  may  understand  his  peculiar 
contribution  and  responsibility  to  society;  but  this 

34 


The  Farmer's  Relation 

result  cannot  be  attained  until  the  farmer  and  every 
one  of  us  recognize  the  holiness  of  the  earth. 

The  farmer  and  every  one  of  us:  every  citizen 
should  be  put  right  toward  the  planet,  should  be 
quicked  to  his  relationship  to  his  natural  back- 
ground. The  whole  body  of  public  sentiment  should 
be  sympathetic  with  the  man  who  works  and  ad- 
ministers the  land  for  us;  and  this  requires  under- 
standing. We  have  heard  much  about  the  "mar- 
ginal man,"  but  the  first  concern  of  society  should 
be  for  the  bottom  man. 

If  this  philosophy  should  really  be  translated  into 
action,  the  farmer  would  nowhere  be  a  peasant, 
forming  merely  a  caste,  and  that  a  low  one,  among 
his  fellows.  He  would  be  an  independent  co-op- 
erating citizen  partaking  fully  of  the  fruits  of  his 
labor,  enjoying  the  social  rewards  of  his  essential 
position,  being  sustained  and  protected  by  a  body 
of  responsive  public  opinion.  The  farmer  cannot 
keep  the  earth  for  us  without  an  enlightened  and 
very  active  support  from  every  other  person,  and 
without  adequate  safeguards  from  exploitation  and 
from  unessential  commercial  pressure. 

This  social  support  requires  a  ready  response  on 
the  part  of  the  farmer;  and  he  must  also  be  devel- 
oped into  his  position  by  a  kind  of  training  that  will 
make  him  quickly  and  naturally  responsive  to  it. 
The  social  fascination  of  the  town  will  always  be 

35 


The  Holy  Earth 

greater  than  that  of  the  open  country.  The  move- 
ments are  more  rapid,  more  picturesque,  have  more 
color  and  more  vivacity.  It  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  we  can  overcome  this  fascination  and  safe- 
guard the  country  boy  and  girl  merely  by  intro- 
ducing more  showy  or  active  enterprises  into  the 
open  country.  We  must  develop  a  new  background 
for  the  country  youth,  establish  new  standards,  and 
arouse  a  new  point  of  view.  The  farmer  will  not 
need  all  the  things  that  the  city  man  thinks  the 
farmer  needs.  We  must  stimulate  his  moral  re- 
sponse, his  appreciation  of  the  worthiness  of  the 
things  in  which  he  lives,  and  increase  his  knowledge 
of  all  the  objects  and  affairs  amongst  which  he 
moves.  The  backbone  of  the  rural  question  is  at 
the  bottom  a  moral  problem. 

We  do  not  yet  know  whether  the  race  can  perma- 
nently endure  urban  life,  or  whether  it  must  be 
constantly  renewed  from  the  vitalities  in  the  rear. 
We  know  that  the  farms  and  the  back  spaces  have 
been  the  mother  of  the  race.  We  know  that  the 
exigencies  and  frugalities  of  life  in  these  backgrounds 
beget  men  and  women  to  be  serious  and  steady  and 
to  know  the  value  of  every  hour  and  of  every  coin 
that  they  earn;  and  whenever  they  are  properly 
trained,  these  folk  recognize  the  holiness  of  the  earth. 

For  some  years  I  have  had  the  satisfaction  to 
speak  to  rural  folk  in  many  places  on  the  holy  earth 
and  to  make  some  of  the  necessary  applications. 

36 


The  Farmer's  Relation 

Everywhere  I  have  met  the  heartiest  assent  from 
these  people.  Specially  do  they  respond  to  the  sug- 
gestion that  if  the  earth  is  hallowed,  so  are  the  na- 
tive products  of  the  earth  hallowed;  and  they  like 
to  have  the  mystery — which  is  the  essential  senti- 
ment— of  these  things  brought  home  to  them  with 
frequency.  I  will  here  let  my  reader  have  a  letter 
that  one  of  these  persons  wrote  me,  and  I  print  it 
without  change.  On  inquiry,  the  writer  of  it  told 
me  that  he  is  a  farmer,  has  never  followed  any  other 
occupation,  was  brought  up  "in  the  woods,"  and 
has  had  practically  no  education.  I  did  not  ask 
him,  but  I  judge  from  the  narrative  style  that  he 
has  been  a  reader  or  a  hearer  of  the  Old  Testament; 
and  here  is  the  letter: 

As  you  say,  too  many  people  confound  farming,  with 
that  sordid,  selfish,  money-getting  game,  called  "business," 
whereas,  the  farmer's  position  is  administrative,  being  in  a 
way  a  dispenser  of  the  "  Mysteries  of  God,"  for  they  are  mys- 
teries. Every  apple  is  a  mystery,  and  every  potato  is  a 
mystery,  and  every  ear  of  corn  is  a  mystery,  and  every  pound 
of  butter  is  a  mystery,  and  when  a  "  farmer  "  is  not  able  to 
understand  these  things  he  is  out  of  place. 

The  farmer  uses  the  soil  and  the  rains  and  the  snows  and 
the  frosts  and  the  winds  and  the  sun;  these  are  also  the  im- 
plements of  the  Almighty,  the  only  tools  He  uses,  and  while 
you  were  talking  that  day,  it  brought  to  mind  the  recollec- 
tion of  an  account  I  once  read  of  an  occurrence  which  took 
place  in  the  vicinity  of  Carlsruhe,  in  Germany,  about  thirty 
years  ago,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  about  it.  An  old  man  and 

37 


The  Holy  Earth 

his  two  sons,  who  were  laborers  on  a  large  farm  there,  went 
out  one  morning  to  mow  peas,  with  scythes,  as  was  the  method 
in  use  at  that  time,  and  soon  after  they  began  work,  they 
noticed  a  large  active  man  coming  along  a  pathway  which 
bordered  the  field  on  one  side,  and  when  he  came  to  where 
they  were,  he  spoke  to  them,  very  pleasantly,  and  asked  them 
some  questions  about  their  work  and  taking  the  scythe  from 
the  hands  of  the  older  man  he  mowed  some  with  it  and  finally 
returned  it  and  went  his  way.  After  a  time  when  the  owner 
of  the  farm  came  out  to  oversee  the  work  they  told  him  of  the 
occurrence,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  who  the  stranger 
might  be,  and  he  told  them  that  he  was  Prince  Bismarck, 
the  Chancellor  of  the  empire,  who  was  staying  at  his  country 
home  at  Carlsruhe,  and  was  out  for  his  morning  walk,  and 
they  were  astonished,  and  the  old  man  was  filled  with  a  great 
pride,  and  he  felt  himself  elevated  above  all  his  fellows,  and 
he  wouldn't  have  sold  his  scythe  for  half  the  money  in  Ger- 
many, and  his  descendants  to  this  day  boast  of  the  fact  that 
their  father  and  Bismarck  mowed  with  the  same  scythe. 
Now  if  it  was  sufficient  to  stimulate  the  pride  of  this  old 
laborer,  if  it  was  sufficient  to  create  for  him  a  private  aris- 
tocracy, if  it  was  sufficient  to  convert  that  old  rusty  scythe 
into  a  priceless  heirloom  to  be  treasured  up  and  transmitted 
from  father  to  son,  if  it  was  sufficient  for  all  these  things 
that  he  had  once  held  a  momentarily  unimportant  associa- 
tion with  the  man  of  "blood  and  iron,"  how  much  more  incon- 
ceivably and  immeasurably  high  and  exalted  is  the  station 
of  the  farmer  who  is,  in  a  measure,  a  fellow  craftsman  of  the 
God  of  Nature,  of  the  great  First  Cause  of  all  things,  and 
people  don't  know  it.  No  wonder  the  boys  leave  the  farm  1 

38 


The  underlying  training  of  a  people 

This,  then,  is  the  landsman's  obligation,  and  his 
joyful  privilege.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that 
he  alone  bears  the  responsibility  to  maintain  the 
holiness  of  the  divine  earth.  '•  It  is  the  obligation 
also  of  all  of  us,  since  every  one  is  born  to  the  earth 
and  lives  upon  it,  and  since  every  one  must  react  to 
it  to  the  extent  of  his  place  and  capabilities.  This 
being  so,  then  it  is  a  primary  need  that  we  shall 
place  at  the  use  of  the  people  a  kind  of  education 
that  shall  quicken  these  attachments. 

Certainly  all  means  of  education  are  useful,  and 
every  means  should  be  developed  to  its  best;  and 
it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  all  the  people  shall  pur- 
sue a  single  means:  but  to  the  nation  and  to  the 
race  a  fundamental  training  must  be  provided. 

We  are  now  in  the  time  of  developing  a  technical 
education  in  agriculture,  to  the  end  that  we  may 
produce  our  land  supplies.  Already  this  education 
is  assuming  broad  aspects,  and  we  begin  to  see  that 
it  has  very  important  bearing  on  public  policies. 
It  is  a  new  form  of  exercise  in  natural  science, — the 
old  education  in  this  great  realm  having  become  so 

39 


The  Holy  Earth 

specialized  and  departmentalized  as  to  lose  much  of 
its  value  as  a  means  of  popular  training. 

It  is  a  happy  augury  that  in  North  America  so 
many  public  men  and  administrators  have  taken 
the  large  view  of  education  by  means  of  agriculture, 
desiring,  while  training  farmers  of  those  who  would 
be  farmers,  to  make  it  a  means  of  bringing  the  un- 
derstanding of  the  people  back  to  the  land.  The 
Americans  are  making  a  very  remarkable  contribu- 
tion here,  in  a  spirit  of  real  statesmanship.  In  the 
long  run,  this  procedure  will  produce  a  spirit  in  the 
people  that  will  have  far-reaching  importance  in  the 
development  of  national  character,  and  in  a  relation 
to  the  backgrounds  of  which  very  few  of  us  yet  have 
vision. 

It  will  be  fortunate  if  we  can  escape  the  formal- 
izing and  professionalizing  of  this  education,  that 
has  cast  such  a  blight  on  most  of  the  older  means 
of  training  the  young,  and  if  we  can  keep  it  demo- 
cratic and  free  in  spirit. 

We  shall  need  to  do  the  same  in  all  the  subjects 
that  lie  at  the  foundations, — in  all  the  other  crafts; 
all  these  crafts  are  of  the  earth.  They  support  the 
physical  man  and  the  social  fabric,  and  make  the 
conditions  out  of  which  all  the  highest  achieve- 
ments may  come. 

Every  person  in  a  democracy  has  a  right  to  be 
educated  by  these  means;  and  a  people  living  in  a 

40 


The  Underlying  Training  of  a  People 

democracy  must  of  necessity  understand  the  sig- 
nificance of  such  education.  This  education  should 
result  or  function  politically.  It  is  not  sufficient  to 
train  technically  in  the  trades  and  crafts  and  arts 
to  the  end  of  securing  greater  economic  efficiency, — 
this  ma}-  be  accomplished  in  a  despotism  and  re- 
sult in  no  self-action  on  the  part  of  the  people. 
Every  democracy  must  reach  far  beyond  what  is 
commonly  known  as  economic  efficiency,  and  do 
everything  it  can  to  enable  those  in  the  backgrounds 
to  maintain  their  standing  and  their  pride  and  to 
partake  in  the  making  of  political  affairs. 


41 


The  neighbor's  access  to  the  earth 

When  one  really  feels  the  response  to  the  native 
earth,  one  feels  also  the  obligation  and  the  impulse 
to  share  it  with  the  neighbor. 

The  earth  is  not  selfish.  It  is  open  and  free  to 
all.  It  invites  everywhere.  The  naturist  is  not 
selfish, — he  shares  all  his  joys  and  discoveries,  even 
to  the  extent  of  publishing  them.  The  farmer  is 
not  selfish  with  his  occupation, — he  freely  aids  every 
one  or  any  one  to  engage  in  his  occupation,  even  if 
that  one  becomes  his  competitor.  But  occupations 
that  are  some  degrees  removed  from  the  earth  may 
display  selfishness;  trade  and,  to  a  large  extent, 
manufacture  are  selfish,  and  they  lock  themselves 
in.  Even  the  exploiting  of  the  resources  of  the  earth 
may  be  selfish,  in  the  taking  of  the  timber  and  the 
coal,  the  water-powrers  and  the  minerals,  for  all  this 
is  likely  to  develop  to  a  species  of  plunder.  The 
naturist  desires  to  protect  the  plants  and  the  animals 
and  the  situations  for  those  less  fortunate  and  for 
those  who  come  after.  There  are  lumbermen  and 
miners  wTith  the  finest  sense  of  obligation.  There 
are  other  men  who  would  take  the  last  nugget  and 
destroy  the  last  bole. 

42 


The  Neighbor's  Access  to  the  Earth 

We  are  to  recognize  the  essential  integrity  of  the 
farming  occupation,  when  developed  constructively, 
as  contrasted  with  the  vast  system  of  improbity  and 
dishonor  that  arises  from  depredation  and  from  the 
taking  of  booty. 

The  best  kind  of  community  interest  attaches  to 
the  proper  use  and  partitioning  of  the  earth,  a  com- 
munism that  is  dissociated  from  propaganda  and 
programs.  The  freedom  of  the  earth  is  not  the 
freedom  of  license:  there  is  always  the  thought  of 
the  others  that  are  dependent  on  it.  It  is  the  free- 
dom of  utilization  for  needs  and  natural  desires, 
without  regard  to  one's  place  among  one's  fellows, 
or  even  to  one's  condition  of  degradation  or  state 
of  sinfulness.  All  men  are  the  same  when  they 
come  back  to  the  meadows,  to  the  hills,  and  to  the 
deep  woods:  He  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil 
and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust. 

The  lesson  of  the  growing  abounding  earth  is  of 
liberality  for  all,  and  never  exploitation  or  very  ex- 
clusive opportunities  for  the  few.  Even  if  the  weaker 
anywhere  perish  in  the  contest  for  food,  they  are 
nevertheless  given  the  opportunity  to  contest  on 
terms  equal  to  their  abilities;  and  at  all  events, 
we  come,  in  the  human  sphere,  to  the  domination 
of  sweet  reason  rather  than  to  competition  in  sheer 
force.  When,  by  means  of  reasonable  education, 

43 


The  Holy  Earth 

this  simple  relation  is  understood  by  mankind  and 
begins  to  express  itself  spontaneously,  we  shall  find 
our  voluminous  complex  of  laws  to  regulate  selfish- 
ness gradually  disappearing  and  passing  into  the 
limbo. 

It  is  now  easy  to  understand  the  sinfulness  of  vast 
private  estates  that  shut  up  expanses  of  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  from  the  reach  and  enjoyment  of 
others  that  are  born  similarly  to  the  privileges  of 
the  planet.  There  is  no  warrant  in  nature  for 
guarantee  deeds  to  such  estates.  It  is  true,  of 
course,  that  land-estates  should  not  be  equal,  for 
capacities  for  use  are  not  equal,  and  abilities  and 
deserts  are  not  equal.  It  is  legitimate  to  reward 
those  who  otherwise  render  great  service,  and  this 
reward  may  lie  in  unusual  privileges.  The  present 
emoluments  in  the  way  of  incomes  bear  little  re- 
lation to  service  or  even  to  merit. 

We  have  not  yet  escaped  the  idea  that  vested 
rights — and  particularly  personal  realty — are  in- 
violable. Certainly  these  rights  must  be  protected 
by  law,  otherwise  there  can  be  no  stability  and  regu- 
larity in  affairs;  but  there  is  no  inalienable  right  in 
the  ownership  of  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Readjust- 
ments must  come,  and  even  now  they  are  coming 
slowly,  and  here  and  there  in  the  interest  of  the 
neighbor;  and  in  the  end  there  will  be  no  private 
monopoly  of  public  or  natural  resources. 

44 


The  Neighbor's  Access  to  the  Earth 

The  cure  for  these  ills  does  not  lie,  however,  in 
the  ownership  of  all  the  land  by  "the  government," 
at  least  not  in  our  time  and  perhaps  never.  It  is 
well  for  a  person  to  have  his  own  plot  for  his  life- 
time, with  the  right  to  use  it  as  he  will  so  long  as 
he  does  not  offend,  or  does  not  despoil  it  for  those 
who  follow:  it  steadies  him,  and  it  identifies  him 
with  a  definite  program  in  life. 

We  usually  speak  as  if  all  good  results  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  natural  bounty  will  ensue  if  "the 
government"  or  "the  state"  owns  the  resources; 
but  government  ownership  of  resources  and  direction 
of  industries  may  not  mean  freedom  or  escape  for 
the  people.  It  depends  entirely  on  the  kind  of 
government, — not  on  its  name  or  description,  but 
on  the  extent  to  which  the  people  have  been  trained 
to  partake  on  their  own  initiative.  The  govern- 
ment may  be  an  autocracy  or  only  another  form  of 
monopoly. 

The  aristocracy  of  land  has  much  to  its  credit. 
Great  gains  in  human  accomplishment  have  come 
out  of  it;  but  this  does  not  justify  it  for  the  future. 
The  aristocracy  of  land  is  a  very  dangerous  power 
in  human  affairs.  It  is  all  the  more  dangerous  when 
associated  with  aristocracy  of  birth  and  of  factitious 
social  position,  which  usually  accompany  it.  A 
people  may  be  ever  so  free  in  its  advantages  and 
in  its  theoretical  political  organization,  and  yet 

45 


The  Holy  Earth 

suffer  overwhelming  bondage  if  its  land  is  tied  up 
in  an  aristocratic  system,  and  particularly  if  that 
system  is  connected  into  a  social  aristocracy.  And 
whenever  rigid  aristocracy  in  land  connects  itself 
with  the  close  control  of  politics,  the  subjection  be- 
comes final  and  complete. 

What  lies  within  a  nation  or  a  people  may  lie  in 
enlarged  form  between  the  nations  or  the  peoples. 
Neighborliness  is  international.  Contest  for  land 
and  sea  is  at  the  basis  of  wars.  Recognizing  the 
right  of  any  people  to  its  own  life,  we  must  equally 
recognize  its  right  to  a  sufficient  part  of  the  surface 
of  the  earth.  We  must  learn  how  to  subdivide  it 
on  the  basis  of  neighborliness,  friendship,  and  con- 
ference; if  we  cannot  learn  this,  then  we  cannot 
be  neighbors  but  only  enemies.  The  proposal  now 
before  Congress  to  cede  to  Canada  the  Alaskan 
Panhandle,  or  a  part  of  it,  is  an  evidence  of  this 
growth  of  international  morals,  extended  to  the 
very  basis  on  which  nations  have  been  the  least 
ready  to  co-operate. 

If  we  may  fraternalize  territory,  so  shall  we  fra- 
ternalize  commerce.  No  people  may  rightly  be 
denied  the  privilege  to  trade  with  all  other  peoples. 
All  kinds  of  useful  interchange  are  civilizers  and 
peacemakers;  and  if  we  carry  ourselves  to  others 
when  we  carry  our  produce  and  our  wares,  so  do 
any  of  us  need  that  others  shall  bring  their  produce 

46 


The  Neighbor's  Access  to  the  Earth 

and  their  wares  to  us.  It  would  be  a  sorry  people 
that  purchased  no  supplies  from  without.  Every 
people,  small  or  large,  has  right  of  access  to  the 
sea,  for  the  sea  belongs  to  mankind.  It  follows 
that  no  people  has  a  right  to  deprive  any  other 
people  of  the  shore,  if  that  people  desires  the  con- 
tact. 

We  now  begin  to  understand  the  awful  sin  of 
partitioning  the  earth  by  force. 


47 


The  subdividing  of  the  land 

The  question  then  arises  whether  lands  and  other 
natural  resources  shall  now  be  divided  and  redis- 
tributed in  order  that  the  share-and-share  of  the 
earth's  patrimony  shall  be  morally  just.  Undoubt- 
edly the  logic  of  the  situation  makes  for  many  per- 
sonal points  of  very  close  contact  with  the  mother 
earth,  and  contact  is  usually  most  definite  and  best 
when  it  results  from  what  we  understand  as  owner- 
ship. This,  in  practice,  suggests  many  small  par- 
cels of  land — for  those  who  would  have  their  con- 
tact by  means  of  land,  which  is  the  directest  means 
— under  personal  fee.  But  due  provision  must  al- 
ways be  made,  as  I  have  already  indicated,  for  the 
man  who  makes  unusual  contribution  to  the  wel- 
fare of  his  fellows,  that  he  may  be  allowed  to  extend 
his  service  and  attain  his  own  full  development;  and 
moreover,  an  established  order  may  not  be  over- 
turned suddenly  and  completely  without  much 
damage,  not  only  to  personal  interests  but  to  so- 
ciety. Every  person  should  have  the  right  and  the 
privilege  to  a  personal  use  of  some  part  of  the 
earth;  and  naturally  the  extent  of  his  privilege 
must  be  determined  by  his  use  of  it. 

4S 


The  Subdividing  of  the  Land 

It  is  urged  that  lands  can  be  most  economically 
administered  in  very  large  units  and  under  cor- 
porate management;  but  the  economic  results  are 
not  the  most  important  results  to  be  secured,  al- 
though at  present  they  are  the  most  stressed.  The 
ultimate  good  in  the  use  of  land  is  the  development 
of  the  people;  it  may  be  better  that  more  persons 
have  contact  with  it  than  that  it  shall  be  executively 
more  effectively  administered.  The  morals  of  land 
management  is  more  important  than  the  economics 
of  land  management;  and  of  course  my  reader  is 
aware  that  by  morals  I  mean  the  results  that  arise 
from  a  right  use  of  the  earth  rather  than  the  formal 
attitudes  toward  standardized  or  conventional  codes 
of  conduct. 

If  the  moral  and  the  economic  ends  can  be  secured 
simultaneously,  as  eventually  they  will  be  secured, 
the  perfect  results  will  come  to  pass;  but  any  line 
of  development  founded  on  accountant  economics 
alone  will  fail. 

Here  I  must  pause  for  an  explanation  in  self- 
defense,  for  my  reader  may  think  I  advise  the  "  little 
farm  well  tilled"  that  has  so  much  captured  the 
public  mind.  So  far  from  giving  such  advice,  I  am 
not  thinking  exclusively  of  farming  when  I  speak  of 
the  partitioning  of  the  land.  One  may  have  land 
merely  to  live  on.  Another  may  have  a  wood  to 
wander  in.  One  may  have  a  spot  on  which  to  make 

49 


The  Holy  Earth 

a  garden.  Another  may  have  a  shore,  and  another 
a  retreat  in  the  mountains  or  in  some  far  space. 
Much  of  the  earth  can  never  be  farmed  or  mined 
or  used  for  timber,  and  yet  these  supposed  waste 
places  may  be  very  real  assets  to  the  race :  we  shall 
learn  this  in  time.  I  am  glad  to  see  these  outlying 
places  set  aside  as  public  reserves;  and  yet  we  must 
not  so  organize  and  tie  up  the  far  spaces  as  to  pre- 
vent persons  of  little  means  from  securing  small 
parcels.  These  persons  should  have  land  that  they 
can  handle  and  manipulate,  in  which  they  may  dig, 
on  which  they  may  plant  trees  and  build  cabins, 
and  wrhich  they  may  feel  is  theirs  to  keep  and  to 
master,  and  which  they  are  not  obliged  to  "im- 
prove." In  the  parks  and  reserves  the  land  may 
be  available  only  to  look  at,  or  as  a  retreat  in  which 
one  may  secure  permission  to  camp.  The  regula- 
tions are  necessary  for  these  places,  but  these 
places  are  not  sufficient. 

If  it  were  possible  for  every  person  to  own  a  tree 
and  to  care  for  it,  the  good  results  would  be  beyond 
estimation. 

Now,  farming  is  a  means  of  support;  and  in  this 
case,  the  economic  possibilities  of  a  particular  piece 
of  land  are  of  primary  consequence.  Of  course,  the 
most  complete  permanent  contact  with  the  earth 
is  by  means  of  farming,  when  one  makes  a  living 
from  the  land;  this  should  produce  better  results 

50 


The  Subdividing  of  the  Land 

than  hunting  or  sport;  but  one  must  learn  how  to 
make  this  connection.  It  is  possible  to  hoe  potatoes 
and  to  hear  the  birds  sing  at  the  same  time,  although 
our  teaching  has  not  much  developed  this  complete- 
ness in  the  minds  of  the  people. 

I  hope,  therefore,  that  the  farmer's  piece  of  land 
will  be  economically  good  (that  it  may  make  him 
a  living  and  produce  a  surplus  for  some  of  the  rest 
of  us),  and  that  the  farmer  may  be  responsive  to 
his  situation.  The  size  of  the  farm  that  is  to  sup- 
port a  family,  and  the  kinds  of  crops  that  shall  be 
grown  and  even  the  yields  that  shall  be  secured  to 
the  acre,  are  technical  problems  of  agriculture.  In 
this  New  World,  with  expensive  labor  and  still  with 
cheap  land,  we  cannot  yet  afford  to  produce  the  high 
yields  of  some  of  the  Old  World  places, — it  may  be 
better  to  till  more  land  with  less  yield  to  the  acre. 
But  all  this  is  aside  from  my  present  purpose;  and 
this  purpose  is  to  suggest  the  very  real  importance 
of  making  it  possible  for  an  increasing  proportion 
of  the  people  to  have  close  touch  with  the  earth  in 
their  own  rights  and  in  their  own  names. 

We  recognize  different  grades  or  kinds  of  land 
occupancy,  some  of  it  being  proprietorship  and 
some  of  it  tenancy  and  some  of  it  mere  share- 
holding. Thus  far  have  we  spoken  of  the  parti- 
tioning of  the  land  mostly  in  its  large  social  and 
political  relations;  but  to  society  also  belongs  the 

51 


The  Holy  Earth 

fertility  of  the  land,  and  all  efforts  to  conserve  this 
fertility  are  public  questions  in  the  best  sense.  In 
America  we  think  of  tenant  occupancy  of  land  as 
dangerous  because  it  does  not  safeguard  fertility; 
in  fact,  it  may  waste  fertility.  This  is  because  the 
practice  in  tenancy  does  not  recognize  the  public 
interest  in  fertility,  and  the  contract  or  agreement  is 
made  merely  between  the  landowner  and  the  ten- 
ant, and  is  largely  an  arrangement  for  skinning 
the  land.  It  is  only  when  the  land  itself  is  a  party 
in  the  contract  (when  posterity  is  considered)  that 
tenancy  is  safe.  Then  the  tenant  is  obliged  to  fer- 
tilize the  land,  to  practise  certain  rotations,  and 
otherwise  to  conserve  fertility,  returning  to  the  land 
the  manurial  value  of  products  that  are  sold.  When 
such  contracts  are  made  and  enforced,  tenancy 
farming  does  not  deplete  the  land  more  than  other 
farming,  as  the  experience  in  some  countries  dem- 
onstrates. It  is  hardly  to  be  expected,  however, 
that  tenant  occupancy  will  give  the  man  as  close 
moral  contact  with  the  earth  and  its  materials  as 
will  ownership;  yet  a  well-developed  tenancy  is 
better  than  absentee  farming  by  persons  who  live 
in  town  and  run  the  farm  by  temporary  hired  help. 
The  tenancy  in  the  United  States  is  partly  a  pre- 
liminary stage  to  ownership:  if  we  can  fulfil  the 
moral  obligation  to  society  in  the  conserving  of 
fertility  and  other  natural  resources,  tenancy  may 
be  considered  as  a  means  to  an  end.  Persons 

52 


The  Subdividing  of  the  Land 

who  work  the  land  should  have  the  privilege  of 
owning  it. 

It  may  be  urged  by  those  who  contend  that  land 
should  be  held  by  society,  that  this  regulation  of 
tenancy  provides  a  means  of  administering  all  farm 
lands  by  government  in  the  interest  of  mainte- 
nance of  fertility.  Leaving  aside  the  primary  de- 
sirability, as  I  see  it,  of  reserving  individual  initia- 
tive, it  is  to  be  said  that  this  kind  of  regulation  of 
the  tenant  is  possible  only  with  a  live-stock  hus- 
bandry; nor  do  we  yet  have  sufficient  knowledge 
to  enable  us  to  project  a  legal  system  for  all  kinds 
of  agriculture;  nor  again  is  it  applicable  to  widely 
differing  conditions  and  regions.  A  keener  sense 
of  responsibility  will  enable  owner  and  tenant  to 
work  out  better  methods  in  all  cases,  but  it  is  now 
impossible  to  incorporate  complete  control  methods 
into  successful  legislative  regulations.  The  in- 
creasing competition  will  make  it  ever  more  difficult 
for  the  careless  man  to  make  a  good  living  by  farm- 
ing, and  he  will  be  driven  from  the  business;  or  if  he 
is  not  driven  out,  society  will  take  away  his  privilege. 

Yet  we  are  not  to  think  of  society  as  founded 
wholly  on  small  separate  tracts,  or  "family  farms," 
occupied  by  persons  who  live  merely  in  content- 
ment; this  would  mean  that  all  landsmen  would  be 
essentially  laborers.  We  need  to  hold  on  the  land 
many  persons  who  possess  large  powers  of  organiza- 
tion, who  are  managers,  who  can  handle  affairs  in 

53 


The  Holy  Earth 

a  bold  way:  it  would  be  fatal  to  the  best  social  and 
spiritual  results  if  such  persons  could  find  no  ade- 
quate opportunities  on  the  land  and  were  forced 
into  other  occupations.  Undoubtedly  we  shall  find 
ourselves  with  very  unlike  land  units,  encouraged 
and  determined  by  the  differing  conditions  and  op- 
portunities in  different  regions;  and  thereby  shall 
we  also  avoid  the  great  danger  of  making  our  fun- 
damental occupation  to  produce  a  uniform  and 
narrow  class  spirit. 

We  need  the  great  example  of  persons  who  live 
separately  on  their  lands,  who  desire  to  abide,  who 
are  serious  in  the  business,  and  who  have  sufficient 
proprietary  rights  to  enable  them  to  handle  the  nat- 
ural resources  responsibly.  There  is  a  type  of  well- 
intentioned  writers  that  would  have  the  farmers 
live  in  centres  in  order  that  they  may  have  what 
are  called  "social"  advantages,  betaking  themselves 
every  morning  to  the  fields  when  the  dew  is  on  the 
grass  and  the  birds  sing,  hastening  back  every  eve- 
ning (probably  when  the  clock  points  to  five)  to  en- 
gage in  the  delightful  delirium  of  card-parties  and 
moving-picture  shows  (of  course  gathering  the 
golden  harvest  in  the  meantime).  Other  writers 
are  to  have  the  farms  so  small  that  the  residences 
will  be  as  close  as  on  a  village  street,  and  a  trolley- 
car  will  run  through,  and  I  suppose  the  band  will 
play! 

54 


A  new  map 

If,  then,  we  are  to  give  the  people  access  to  the 
holy  earth,  it  means  not  only  a  new  assent  on  the 
part  of  society  but  a  new  way  of  partitioning  the 
surface.  This  is  true  whether  we  consider  the  sub- 
ject wholly  from  the  view-point  of  making  natural 
resources  utilizable  or  from  the  added  desire  to  let 
the  people  out  to  those  resources. 

The  organization  of  any  affair  or  enterprise  de- 
termines to  a  great  extent  the  character  of  the  re- 
sult; and  the  organization  rests  directly  on  the  sub- 
division into  parts.  The  dividing  of  a  business  into 
separate  responsibilities  of  different  departments 
and  sub-departments  makes  for  easy  access  and  for 
what  we  now  know  as  efficiency;  the  dividing  of  a 
nation  into  states  or  provinces  and  counties  and 
many  lesser  units  makes  political  life  possible;  the 
setting  off  of  a  man's  farm  into  fields,  with  lanes 
and  roads  connecting,  makes  a  working  enterprise. 
The  more  accurately  these  subdivisions  follow  nat- 
ural and  living  necessities,  the  greater  will  be  the 
values  and  the  satisfactions  that  result  from  the 
undertaking. 

Here  is  the  open  country,  behind  the  great  cities 
55 


The  Holy  Earth 

and  the  highly  specialized  industries.  There  are 
hills  in  it,  great  and  small.  There  are  forests  here, 
none  there;  sands  that  nobody  wants;  fertile  lands 
that  everybody  wants;  shores  inviting  trade;  min- 
eral wealth;  healing  waters;  power  in  streams;  fish 
in  ponds  and  lakes;  building  stone;  swamps  abound- 
ing in  life;  wild  corners  that  stimulate  desire;  scen- 
eries that  take  the  soul  into  the  far  places.  These 
are  the  fundamental  reserves  and  the  backgrounds. 
The  first  responsibility  of  any  society  is  to  protect 
them,  husband  them,  bring  them  into  use,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  teach  the  people  what  they  mean. 
To  bring  them  into  use,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
to  protect  them  from  rapacious  citizens  who  have 
small  social  conscience,  it  is  necessary  to  have  good 
access.  It  is  necessary  to  have  roads.  These  roads 
should  be  laid  where  the  resources  exist,  direct, 
purposeful.  In  a  flat  and  uniform  country,  road 
systems  may  well  be  rectangular,  following  section- 
lines  and  intermediate  lines;  but  the  rectangularity 
is  not  the  essential  merit, — it  is  only  a  serviceable 
way  of  subdividing  the  resources.  To  find  one's 
direction,  north  or  south,  is  convenient,  but  it  may 
clearly  be  subordinated  to  the  utilization  and  pro- 
tection of  the  supplies.  The  section-line  division 
may  accomplish  this  or  it  may  not,  and  it  is  likely 
to  place  roads  in  wrong  locations  and  to  render  the 
country  monotonous  and  uninteresting. 

56 


A  New  Map 

But  in  the  broken  country,  in  the  country  of 
tumbled  hills  and  crooked  falling  streams,  of  slopes 
that  would  better  be  left  in  the  wild,  and  of  lands 
that  are  good  and  fruitful  for  the  plow,  the  roads 
may  go  the  easy  grades;  but  they  ought  also  to  go 
in  such  a  plan  as  to  open  up  the  country  to  the  best 
development,  to  divide  its  resources  in  the  surest 
way  for  the  greatest  number  of  persons,  and  to  re- 
duce profitless  human  toil  to  the  minimum, — and 
this  is  just  what  they  may  not  do.  They  may  go 
up  over  bare  and  barren  hills  merely  to  pass  a  few 
homesteads  where  no  homesteads  ought  to  be,  roads 
that  are  always  expensive  and  never  good,  that 
accomplish  practically  nothing  for  society.  They 
leave  good  little  valleys  at  one  side,  or  enter  them 
over  almost  impossible  slopes.  There  are  resources 
of  physical  wealth  and  of  wonderful  scenery  that 
they  do  not  touch,  that  would  be  of  much  value  if 
they  were  accessible.  The  farming  country  is  often 
not  divided  in  such  a  way  as  to  render  it  either  most 
readily  accessible  or  to  make  it  the  most  useful  as 
an  asset  for  the  people. 

To  connect  villages  and  cities  by  stone  roads  is 
good.  But  what  are  we  to  do  with  all  the  back 
country,  to  make  it  contribute  its  needful  part  to 
feed  the  people  in  the  days  that  are  to  come,  and  to 
open  it  to  the  persons  who  ought  to  go?  We  can- 
not accomplish  this  to  the  greatest  purpose  by  the 

57 


The  Holy  Earth 

present  road  systems,  even  if  the  roads  themselves 
are  all  made  good. 

When  the  traveler  goes  to  a  strange  country,  he 
is  interested  in  the  public  buildings,  the  cities,  and 
some  of  the  visible  externals;  but  if  he  wants  to 
understand  the  country,  he  must  have  a  detailed 
map  of  its  roads.  The  automobile  maps  are  of  no 
value  for  this  purpose,  for  they  show  how  one  may 
pass  over  the  country,  not  how  the  country  is  de- 
veloped. As  the  last  nerve-fibre  and  the  last  capil- 
lary are  essential  to  the  end  of  the  finger  and  to 
the  entire  body,  so  the  ultimate  roads  are  essential 
to  the  myriad  farms  and  to  the  national  life.  It  is 
difficult  in  any  country  to  get  these  maps,  accu- 
rately and  in  detail;  but  they  are  the  essential  guide- 
books. 

We  undertake  great  conquests  of  engineering, 
over  mountains  and  across  rivers  and  through  the 
morasses;  but  at  the  last  we  shall  call  on  the  en- 
gineer for  the  greatest  conquest  of  all, — how  to 
divide  the  surface  of  the  earth  so  that  it  shall  yield 
us  its  best  and  mean  to  us  the  most,  on  the  easiest 
grades,  in  the  most  practicable  way,  that  we  may 
utilize  every  piece  of  land  to  fullest  advantage. 

This  means  a  new  division  and  perhaps  a  redis- 
tribution of  lands  in  such  a  way  that  the  farmer 
will  have  his  due  proportion  of  hill  and  of  valley, 
rather  than  that  one  shall  have  all  valley  and  an- 

58 


A  New  Map 

other  all  hard-scrabble  on  the  hill  or  all  waste  land 
in  some  remote  place.  It  means  that  there  will  be 
on  each  holding  the  proper  relation  of  tilled  land 
and  pasture  land  and  forest  land,  and  that  the  out- 
lets for  the  farmer  and  his  products  will  be  the  readi- 
est and  the  simplest  that  it  is  possible  to  make. 
It  means  that  some  roads  will  be  abandoned  en- 
tirely, as  not  worth  the  cost,  and  society  will  make 
a  way  for  farmers  living  on  impossible  farms  to 
move  to  other  lands;  and  that  there  will  be  no 
"back  roads,"  for  they  will  be  the  marks  of  an  un- 
developed society.  It  means  that  we  shall  cease 
the  pretense  to  bring  all  lands  into  farming,  whether 
they  are  useful  for  farming  or  not;  and  that  in  the 
back  country  beyond  the  last  farms  there  shall  be 
trails  that  lead  far  away. 

In  the  farm  region  itself,  much  of  the  old  division 
will  pass  away,  being  uneconomical  and  non-social. 
The  abandonment  of  farms  is  in  some  cases  a  be- 
ginning of  the  process,  but  it  is  blind  an'd  undirected. 
Our  educational  effort  is  at  present  directed  toward 
making  the  farmer  prosperous  on  his  existing  farm, 
rather  than  to  help  him  to  secure  a  farm  of  proper 
resources  and  with  proper  access.  As  time  goes  on, 
we  must  reassemble  many  of  the  land  divisions,  if 
each  man  is  to  have  adequate  opportunity  to  make 
the  most  effective  application  of  his  knowledge,  the 
best  use  of  himself,  and  the  greatest  possible  contri- 

59 


The  Holy  Earth 

bution  to  society.  It  would  be  well  if  some  of  the 
farms  could  be  dispossessed  of  their  owners,  so  that 
areas  might  be  recombined  on  a  better  basis. 

This  is  no  Utopian  or  socialistic  scheme,  nor  does 
it  imply  a  forcible  interference  with  vested  rights. 
It  is  a  plain  statement  of  the  necessities  of  the  situa- 
tion. Of  course  it  cannot  come  about  quickly  or 
as  a  result  of  direct  legislation;  but  there  are  vari- 
ous movements  that  may  start  it, — it  is,  in  fact, 
already  started.  All  the  burning  rural  problems  re- 
late themselves  in  the  end  to  the  division  of  the 
land.  In  America,  we  do  not  suffer  from  the  hold- 
ing of  the  land  in  a  few  families  or  in  an  aristocratic 
class;  that  great  danger  we  have  escaped,  but  we 
have  not  yet  learned  how  to  give  the  land  meaning 
to  the  greatest  number  of  people.  This  is  a  question 
for  the  best  political  program,  for  we  look  for  the  day 
when  statesmanship  shall  be  expressed  in  the  de- 
tails of  common  politics. 

We  now  hear  much  about  the  good-roads  ques- 
tion, as  if  it  were  a  problem  only  of  highway  con- 
struction: it  is  really  a  question  of  a  new  map. 


60 


TJie  public  program 

It  would  be  a  great  gain  if  many  persons  could 
look  forward  to  the  ownership  of  a  bit  of  the  earth, 
to  share  in  the  partition,  to  partake  in  the  brother- 
hood. Some  day  we  shall  make  it  easy  rather  than 
difficult  for  this  to  be  brought  about. 

Society,  in  its  collective  interest,  also  has  neces- 
sities in  the  land.  There  is  necessity  of  land  to  be 
owned  by  cities  and  other  assemblages  for  water 
reservoirs,  and  all  the  rights  thereto;  for  school 
grounds,  playgrounds,  reformatory  institutions, 
hospitals,  drill  grounds,  sewage-disposal  areas,  irri- 
gation developments,  drainage  reclamations;  for 
the  public  control  of  banks  and  borders  of  streams 
and  ponds,  for  the  shores  of  all  vast  bodies  of  water, 
for  pleasure  parks,  recreation,  breathing  spaces  in 
the  great  congestions,  highways  and  other  lines  of 
communication;  for  the  sites  of  public  buildings, 
colleges  and  experiment  stations,  bird  and  beast 
refuges,  fish  and  game  reservations,  cemeteries. 
There  are  also  the  rights  of  many  semi-public 
agencies  that  need  land, — of  churches,  of  fraternal 
organizations,  of  incorporated  seminaries  and  schools, 
of  water-power  and  oil  and  coal  developments,  of 

61 


The  Holy  Earth 

manufacturing  establishments,  of  extensive  quarries, 
and  of  commercial  enterprises  of  very  many  kinds. 
There  is  also  the  obligation  of  the  general  govern- 
ment that  it  shall  have  reserves  against  future 
needs,  and  that  it  shall  protect  the  latent  resources 
from  exploitation  and  from  waste.  Great  areas 
must  be  reserved  for  forests,  as  well  as  for  other 
crops,  and,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  these  forest 
spaces  in  the  future  must  be  mostly  in  public  owner- 
ship. 

Great  remainders  should  be  held  by  the  people 
to  be  sold  in  small  parcels  to  those  who  desire  to 
get  out  to  the  backgrounds  but  who  do  not  want 
to  be  farmers,  where  they  may  spend  a  vacation 
or  renew  themselves  in  the  soil  or  under  the  trees, 
or  by  the  green  pastures  or  along  the  everlasting 
streams.  It  is  a  false  assumption  which  supposes 
that  if  land  cannot  be  turned  into  products  of  sale 
it  is  therefore  valueless.  The  present  active  back- 
to-the-land  movement  has  meaning  to  us  here.  It 
expresses  the  yearning  of  the  people  for  contact 
with  the  earth  and  for  escape  from  complexity  and 
unessentials.  As  there  is  no  regular  way  for  at- 
taining these  satisfactions,  it  has  largely  taken  the 
form  of  farming,  which  occupation  has  also  been 
re-established  in  popular  estimation  in  the  same 
epoch.  It  should  not  be  primarily  a  back-to-the- 
farm  movement,  however,  and  it  is  not  to  be  derided. 

62 


The  Public  Program 

We  are  to  recognize  its  meaning  and  to  find  some 
way  of  enabling  more  of  the  people  to  stand  on  the 
ground. 

Aside  from  all  this,  land  is  needed  for  human 
habitation,  where  persons  may  have  space  and  may 
have  the  privilege  of  gathering  about  them  the 
goods  that  add  value  to  life.  Much  land  will  be 
needed  in  future  for  this  habitation,  not  only  be- 
cause there  will  be  more  people,  but  also  because 
every  person  will  be  given  an  outlet.  We  know  it 
is  not  right  that  any  family  should  be  doomed  to 
the  occupancy  of  a  very  few  dreary  rooms  and 
deathly  closets  in  the  depths  of  great  cities,  seeing 
that  all  children  are  born  to  the  natural  sky  and  to 
the  wind  and  to  the  earth.  We  do  not  yet  see  the 
way  to  allow  them  to  have  what  is  naturally  theirs, 
but  we  shall  learn  how.  In  that  day  we  shall  take 
down  the  wonderful  towers  and  cliffs  in  the  cities, 
in  which  people  work  and  live,  shelf  on  shelf,  but  in 
which  they  have  no  home.  The  great  city  expansion 
in  the  end  will  be  horizontal  rather  than  perpendic- 
ular. We  shall  have  many  knots,  clustered  about 
factories  and  other  enterprises,  and  we  shall  learn 
how  to  distribute  the  satisfactions  in  life  rather 
than  merely  to  assemble  them.  Before  this  time 
conies,  we  shall  have  passed  the  present  insistence 
on  so-called  commercial  efficiency,  as  if  it  were  the 
sole  measure  of  a  civilization,  and  higher  ends  shall 

63 


The  Holy  Earth 

come  to  have  control.  All  this  will  rest  largely  on 
the  dividing  of  the  land. 

It  is  the  common  assumption  that  the  solution 
of  these  problems  lies  in  facilities  of  transportation, 
and,  to  an  extent,  this  is  true;  but  this  assumption 
usually  rests  on  the  other  assumption,  that  the 
method  of  the  present  city  vortex  is  the  method  of 
all  time,  with  its  violent  rush  into  the  vortex  and 
out  of  it,  consuming  vastly  of  time  and  energy,  pre- 
venting home  leisure  and  destroying  locality  feel- 
ing, herding  the  people  like  cattle.  The  question  of 
transportation  is  indeed  a  major  problem,  but  it 
must  be  met  in  part  by  a  different  philosophy  of 
human  effort,  settling  the  people  in  many  small  or 
moderate  assemblages  rather  than  in  a  few  mighty 
congestions.  It  will  be  better  to  move  the  materials 
than  to  move  the  people. 

The  great  cities  will  grow  larger;  that  is,  they 
will  cover  more  land.  The  smaller  cities,  the  vil- 
lages, the  country  towns  will  take  on  greatly  in- 
creased importance.  We  shall  learn  how  to  secure 
the  best  satisfactions  when  we  live  in  villages  as 
well  as  when  we  live  in  cities.  We  begin  to  plan 
our  cities  and  to  a  small  extent  our  villages.  We 
now  begin  to  plan  the  layout  of  the  farms,  that  they 
may  accomplish  the  best  results.  But  the  cities  and 
the  towns  depend  on  the  country  that  lies  beyond; 
and  the  country  beyond  depends  on  the  city  and 

64 


The  Public  Program 

the  town.  The  problem  is  broadly  one  problem, — 
the  problem  of  so  dividing  and  subdividing  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  that  there  shall  be  the  least  con- 
flict between  all  these  interests,  that  public  reserva- 
tions shall  not  be  placed  where  it  is  better  to  have 
farms,  that  farming  developments  may  not  inter- 
fere with  public  utilities,  that  institutions  may  be 
so  placed  and  with  such  area  as  to  develop  their 
highest  usefulness,  that  the  people  desiring  outlet 
and  contact  with  the  earth  in  their  own  right  may 
be  accorded  that  essential  privilege.  We  have  not 
yet  begun  to  approach  the  subject  in  a  fundamental 
way,  and  yet  it  is  the  primary  problem  of  the  occu- 
pancy of  the  planet. 

To  the  growing  movement  for  city  planning  should 
be  added  an  equal  movement  for  country  planning; 
and  these  should  not  proceed  separately,  but  both 
together.  No  other  public  program  is  now  more 
needed. 


65 


The  honest  day's  work 

There  is  still  another  application  of  this  problem 
of  the  land  background.  It  is  the  influence  that 
productive  ownership  exerts  on  the  day's  work. 

Yesterday  for  some  time  I  observed  eight  working 
men  engaged  in  removing  parts  of  a  structure  and 
loading  the  pieces  on  a  freight-car.  At  no  time  were 
more  than  two  of  the  men  making  any  pretension 
of  working  at  once,  most  of  the  time  they  were  all 
visiting  or  watching  passers-by,  and  in  the  whole 
period  the  eight  men  did  not  accomplish  what  one 
good  honest  man  should  have  performed.  I  won- 
dered whether  they  had  sufficient  exercise  to  keep 
them  in  good  health.  They  apparently  were  con- 
cerned about  their  "rights";  if  the  employer  had 
rights  they  were  undiscoverable. 

We  know  the  integrity  and  effectiveness  of  the 
body  of  workmen;  yet  any  reader  who  has  formed 
a  habit  of  observing  men  on  day  work  and  public 
work  will  recognize  my  account.  Day  men  usually 
work  in  gangs,  frequently  too  many  of  them  to  allow 
any  one  to  labor  effectively,  and  the  whole  process  is 
likely  to  be  mechanical,  impersonal,  often  shiftless 
and  pervaded  with  the  highly  developed  skill  of  put- 
ting in  the  time  and  reducing  the  time  to  the  mini- 

66 


The  Honest  Day's  Work 

mum  and  of  beginning  to  quit  well  in  advance  of  the 
quitting  time.  The  process  of  securing  labor  has 
become  involved,  tied  up,  and  the  labor  is  not  ren- 
dered in  a  sufficient  spirit  of  service.  About  the  only 
free  labor  yet  remaining  to  us  is  the  month  labor  on 
the  farm,  even  though  it  may  be  difficult  to  secure 
and  be  comprised  largely  of  ineffective  remainders. 

Over  against  all  this  is  the  importance  of  setting 
men  at  work  singly  and  for  themselves;  this  can 
be  accomplished  only  when  they  own  their  property 
or  have  some  real  personal  share  in  the  production. 
The  gang-spirit  of  labor  runs  into  the  politics  of  the 
group  and  constitutes  the  norm.  If  we  are  to  have 
self-acting  men  they  must  be  removed  from  close 
control,  in  labor  as  well  as  elsewhere.  If  it  is  neces- 
sary that  any  great  proportion  of  the  laboring  men 
shall  be  controlled,  then  is  it  equally  important  that 
other  men  in  sufficient  numbers  shall  constitute  the 
requisite  counterbalance  and  corrective.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  any  kind  of  profit-sharing  in 
closely  controlled  industries  can  ever  be  as  effec- 
tive in  training  responsible  men  for  a  democracy, 
other  things  being  equal,  as  an  occupation  or  series 
of  occupations  in  which  the  worker  is  responsible 
for  his  own  results  rather  than  to  an  overseer,  al- 
though the  profit-sharing  may  for  the  time  being 
develop  the  greater  technical  efficiency. 

The  influence  of  ownership  on  the  performance 
G7 


The  Holy  Earth 

of  the  man  is  often  well  illustrated  when  the  farm 
laborer  or  tenant  becomes  the  proprietor.  Some  of 
my  readers  will  have  had  experience  in  the  difficult 
and  doubtful  process  of  trying  to  "run  a  farm"  at 
long  range  by  means  of  ordinary  hired  help:  the 
residence  is  uninhabitable;  the  tools  are  old  and 
out  of  date,  and  some  of  them  cannot  be  found ;  the 
well  water  is  not  good;  the  poultry  is  of  the  wrong 
breed,  and  the  hens  will  not  sit;  the  horses  are  not 
adapted  to  the  work;  the  wagons  must  be  painted 
and  the  harnesses  replaced;  the  absolutely  essential 
supplies  are  interminable;  there  must  be  more  day 
labor.  Now  let  this  hired  man  come  into  the  own- 
ership of  the  farm :  presto !  the  house  can  be  re- 
paired at  almost  no  cost;  the  tools  are  good  for  some 
years  yet;  the  harnesses  can  easily  be  mended;  the 
absolutely  essential  supplies  dwindle  exceedingly; 
and  the  outside  labor  reduces  itself  to  minor  terms. 
Work  with  machinery,  in  factories,  may  proceed 
more  rapidly  because  the  operator  must  keep  up 
with  the  machine;  and  there  are  also  definite  stand- 
ards or  measures  of  performance.  Yet  even  here 
it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  the  work  will  be  much 
more  than  time-service.  In  fact,  the  very  move- 
ment among  labor  is  greatly  to  emphasize  time- 
service,  and  often  quite  independently  of  justice. 
There  must  necessarily  be  a  reaction  from  this  atti- 
tude if  we  are  to  hope  for  the  best  human  product. 

68 


The  Honest  Day's  Work 

The  best  human  product  results  from  the  bearing 
of  responsibility;  in  a  controlled  labor  body  the  re- 
sponsibility is  shifted  to  the  organization  or  to  the 
boss.  Assuredly  the  consolidating  of  labor  is  much 
to  be  desired  if  it  is  for  the  common  benefit  and  for 
protection,  and  if  it  leaves  the  laborer  free  with 
his  own  product.  Every  person  has  the  inalienable 
right  to  express  himself,  so  long  as  it  does  not  vio- 
late similar  rights  of  his  fellows,  and  to  put  forth  his 
best  production;  if  a  man  can  best  express  himself 
in  manual  labor,  no  organization  should  suppress  him 
or  deny  him  that  privilege.  It  is  a  sad  case,  and  a 
denial  of  fundamental  liberties,  if  a  man  is  not  al- 
lowed to  work  or  to  produce  as  much  as  he  desires. 
Good  development  does  not  come  from  repression. 

Society  recognizes  its  obligation  to  the  laboring 
man  of  whatever  kind  and  the  necessity  of  safe- 
guarding him  both  in  his  own  interest  and  because 
he  stands  at  the  very  foundations;  the  laboring  man 
bears  an  obligation  to  respond  liberally  with  ser- 
vice and  good-will. 

Is  it  desirable  to  have  an  important  part  of  the 
labor  of  a  people  founded  on  ownership?  Is  it 
worth  while  to  have  an  example  in  a  large  class  of 
the  population  of  manual  work  that  is  free-spirited, 
and  not  dominated  by  class  interest  and  time- 
service?  Is  it  essential  to  social  progress  that  a 
day's  work  shall  be  full  measure? 

69 


The  group  reaction 

One  of  the  interesting  phenomena  of  human  as- 
sociation is  the  arising  of  a  certain  standard  or 
norm  of  moral  action  within  the  various  groups 
that  compose  it.  These  standards  may  not  be  in- 
herently righteous,  but  they  become  so  thoroughly 
established  as  to  be  enacted  into  law  or  even  to 
be  more  powerful  than  law.  So  is  it,  as  we  have 
seen,  with  the  idea  of  inalienable  rights  in  natural 
property  that  may  be  held  even  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  any  proper  use  that  the  owners  may  be  able 
to  make  of  it;  and  so  is  it  with  the  idea  of  invio- 
lable natural  privileges  to  those  who  control  facili- 
ties that  depend  on  public  patronage  for  their  com- 
mercial success.  The  man  himself  may  hold  one 
kind  of  personal  morals,  but  the  group  of  which  he 
is  a  part  may  hold  a  very  different  kind.  It  is  our 
problem,  in  dealing  with  the  resources  of  the  earth, 
to  develop  in  the  group  the  highest  expression  of 
duty  that  is  to  be  found  in  individuals. 

The  restraint  of  the  group,  or  the  correction  of 
the  group  action,  is  applied  from  the  outside  in  the 
form  of  public  opinion  and  in  attack  by  other 
groups.  The  correction  does  not  often  arise  from 

70 


The  Group  Reaction 

within.  The  establishing  of  many  kinds  of  public - 
service  bodies  illustrates  this  fact.  It  is  the  check 
of  society  on  group-selfishness. 

These  remarks  apply  to  the  man  who  stands  at 
the  foundation  of  society,  next  the  earth,  as  well 
as  to  others,  although  he  has  not  organized  to 
propagate  the  action  of  his  class.  The  spoliation 
of  land,  the  insufficient  regard  for  it,  the  trifling 
with  it,  is  much  more  than  an  economic  deficiency. 
Society  will  demand  either  through  the  pressure  of 
public  opinion,  or  by  regularized  action,  that  the 
producing  power  of  the  land  shall  be  safeguarded 
and  increased,  as  I  have  indicated  in  an  earlier 
part  of  the  discussion.  It  will  be  better  if  it  comes 
as  the  result  of  education,  and  thereby  develops 
the  voluntary  feeling  of  obligation  and  responsibil- 
ity. At  the  same  time,  it  is  equally  the  responsi- 
bility of  every  other  person  to  make  it  possible  for 
the  farmer  to  prosecute  his  business  under  the  ex- 
pression of  the  highest  standards. 

There  is  just  now  abroad  amongst  us  a  teaching 
to  the  effect  that  the  farmer  cannot  afford  to  put 
much  additional  effort  into  his  crop  production,  in- 
asmuch as  the  profit  in  an  acre  may  not  depend 
on  the  increase  in  yield,  and  therefore  he  does  not 
carry  an  obligation  to  augment  his  acre-yields. 
This  is  a  weakening  philosophy. 

Undoubtedly  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  he 
71 


The  Holy  Earth 

may  not  go  with  profit  in  the  effort  to  secure  a 
heavy  yield,  for  it  may  cost  him  too  much  to  pro- 
duce the  maximum;  so  it  may  not  be  profitable  for 
a  transportation  company  to  maintain  the  highest 
possible  speed.  With  this  economic  question  I  have 
nothing  to  do;  but  it  is  the  farmer's  moral  responsi- 
bility to  society  to  increase  his  production,  and  the 
stimulation  reacts  powerfully  upon  himself.  It  is  a 
man's  natural  responsibility  to  do  his  best:  it  is 
specially  important  that  the  man  at  the  bottom  put 
forth  his  best  efforts.  To  increase  his  yields  is  one 
of  the  ways  in  which  he-  expresses  himself  as  a  man 
and  applies  his  knowledge.  This  incentive  taken 
away,  agriculture  loses  one  of  its  best  endeavors, 
the  occupation  remains  stationary  or  even  deterio- 
rates, and  society  loses  a  moral  support  at  the  very 
point  where  it  is  most  needed. 

If  the  economic  conditions  are  such  that  the 
farmer  cannot  afford  to  increase  his  production, 
then  the  remedy  is  to  be  found  without  rather 
than  by  the  repression  of  the  producer.  We  are  ex- 
pending vast  effort  to  educate  the  farmer  in  the 
ways  of  better  production,  but  we  do  not  make  it 
possible  for  him  to  apply  this  education  to  the  best 
advantage. 

The  real  farmer,  the  one  whom  we  so  much  de- 
light to  honor,  has  a  strong  moral  regard  for  his 
land,  for  his  animals,  and  his  crops.  These  are  es- 

72 


The  Group  Reaction 

tablished  men,  with  highly  developed  obligations, 
feeling  their  responsibility  to  the  farm  on  which 
they  live.  No  nation  can  long  persist  that  does 
not  have  this  kind  of  citizenry  in  the  background. 

I  have  spoken  of  one  phase  of  the  group  reaction, 
as  suggested  in  the  attitude  of  the  farmer.  It  may 
be  interesting  to  recall,  again,  the  fact  that  the  pur- 
pose of  farming  is  changing.  The  farmer  is  now 
adopting  the  outlook  and  the  moral  conduct  of  com- 
merce. His  business  is  no  longer  to  produc'e  the 
supplies  for  his  family  and  to  share  the  small  over- 
plus with  society.  He  grows  or  makes  a  certain 
line  of  produce  that  he  sells  for  cash,  and  then  he 
purchases  his  other  supplies  in  the  general  market. 
The  days  of  homespun  are  gone.  The  farmer  is  as 
much  a  buyer  as  a  seller.  Commercial  methods 
and  standards  are  invading  the  remotest  communi- 
ties. This  will  have  far-reaching  results.  Perhaps  a 
fundamental  shift  in  the  moral  basis  of  the  agricul- 
tural occupations  is  slowly  under  way. 

The  measuring  of  farming  in  terms  of  yields  and 
incomes  introduces  a  dangerous  standard.  It  is 
commonly  assumed  that  State  moneys  for  agricul- 
ture-education may  be  used  only  for  "practical" — 
that  is,  for  dollars-and-cents — results,  and  the  em- 
phasis is  widely  placed  very  exclusively  on  more 
alfalfa,  more  corn,  more  hogs,  more  fruit,  on  the 
two-blades-of-grass  morals;  and  yet  the  highest 

73 


The  Holy  Earth 

good  that  can  accrue  to  a  State  for  the  expenditure 
of  its  money  is  the  raising  up  of  a  population  less 
responsive  to  cash  than  to  some  other  stimuli.  The 
good  physical  support  is  indeed  essential,  but  it  is 
only  the  beginning  of  a  process.  I  am  conscious  of 
a  peculiar  hardness  in  some  of  the  agriculture- 
enterprise,  with  little  real  uplook;  I  hope  that  we 
may  soon  pass  this  cruder  phase. 

Undoubtedly  we  are  in  the  beginning  of  an  epoch 
in  rural  affairs.  We  are  at  a  formative  period.  We 
begin  to  consider  the  rural  problem  increasingly  in 
terms  of  social  groups.  The  attitudes  that  these 
groups  assume,  the  way  in  which  they  react  to  their 
problems,  will  be  determined  in  the  broader  as- 
pects for  some  time  to  come  by  the  character  of 
the  young  leadership  that  is  now  taking  the  field. 


74 


The  spiritual  contact  with  nature 

A  useful  contact  with  the  earth  places  man  not 
as  superior  to  nature  but  as  a  superior  intelligence 
working  in  nature  as  a  conscious  and  therefore  as 
a  responsible  part  in  a  plan  of  evolution,  which  is 
a  continuing  creation.  It  distinguishes  the  ele- 
mental virtues  as  against  the  acquired,  factitious, 
and  pampered  virtues.  These  strong  and  simple 
traits  may  be  brought  out  easily  and  naturally  if 
we  incorporate  into  our  schemes  of  education  the 
solid  experiences  of  tramping,  camping,  scouting, 
farming,  handcraft,  and  other  activities  that  are 
not  mere  refinements  of  subjective  processes. 

Lack  of  training  in  the  realities  drives  us  to  find 
satisfaction  in  all  sorts  of  make-believes  and  in 
play-lives.  The  "  movies  "  and  many  other  develop- 
ments of  our  time  make  an  appeal  wholly  beyond 
their  merits,  and  they  challenge  the  methods  and 
intentions  of  education. 

There  are  more  fundamental  satisfactions  than 
"thrills."  There  is  more  heart-ease  in  frugality 
than  in  surfeit.  There  is  no  real  relish  except  when 
the  appetite  is  keen.  \Ve  are  now  provided  with 
all  sorts  of  things  that  nobody  ever  should  want. 

75 


The  Holy  Earth 

The  good  spiritual  reaction  to  nature  is  not  a 
form  of  dogmatism  or  impressionism.  It  results 
normally  from  objective  experience,  when  the  per- 
son is  ready  for  it  and  has  good  digestion.  It  should 
be  the  natural  emotion  of  the  man  who  knows  his 
objects  and  does  not  merely  dream  about  them. 
There  is  no  hallucination  in  it.  The  remedy  for 
some  of  the  erratic  "futurism"  and  other  forms  of 
illusion  is  to  put  the  man  hard  against  the  facts: 
he  might  be  set  to  studying  bugs  or  soils  or  placed 
between  the  handles  of  a  plow  until  such  time  as 
objects  begin  to  take  their  natural  shape  and  mean- 
ing in  his  mind. 

It  is  not  within  my  purview  here  to  consider  the 
abstract  righteous  relation  of  man  to  the  creation, 
nor  to  examine  the  major  emotions  that  result  from  a 
contemplation  of  nature.  It  is  only  a  very  few  of 
the  simpler  and  more  practical  considerations  that 
I  may  suggest. 

The  training  in  solid  experience  naturally  em- 
phasizes the  righteousness  of  plain  and  simple  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  and  of  frugality  and  control  in 
pleasures.  Many  of  the  adventitious  pleasures  are 
in  the  highest  degree  pernicious  and  are  indications 
of  weakness. 

Considering  the  almost  universal  opinion  that 
nature  exhibits  the  merciless  and  relentless  struggle 
of  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  it  is 

76 


The  Spiritual  Contact  with  Nature 

significant  that  one  of  the  most  productive  ways  of 
training  a  youth  in  sensitiveness  and  in  regard  for 
other  creatures  is  by  means  of  the  nature  contact. 
Even  if  the  person  is  taught  that  the  strong  and 
ferocious  survive  and  conquer,  he  nevertheless  soon 
comes  to  have  the  tenderest  regard  for  every  living 
thing  if  he  has  the  naturist  in  him.  He  discards 
the  idea  that  we  lose  virility  when  we  cease  to  kill, 
and  relegates  the  notion  to  the  limbo  of  deceits. 
This  only  means  that  unconsciously  he  has  experi- 
enced the  truth  in  nature,  and  in  practice  has  dis- 
carded the  erroneous  philosophy  contained  in  books 
even  though  he  may  still  give  these  philosophies 
his  mental  assent. 

It  is  exactly  among  the  naturists  that  the  old  in- 
stinct to  kill  begins  to  lose  its  force  and  that  an 
instinct  of  helpfulness  and  real  brotherhood  soon 
takes  its  place.  From  another  source,  the  instinct 
to  kill  dies  out  among  the  moralists  and  other  people. 
And  yet  it  is  passing  strange  how  this  old  survival 
— or  is  it  a  reversion? — holds  its  place  amongst  us, 
even  in  the  higher  levels.  The  punishment  of  a  life 
for  a  life  is  itself  a  survival.  Entertainment  even 
yet  plays  upon  this  old  memory  of  killing,  as  in 
books  of  adventure,  in  fiction,  in  playgames  of 
children,  and  worst  of  all  on  the  stage  where  this 
strange  anachronism,  even  in  plays  that  are  not 
historic,  is  still  portrayed  in  pernicious  features  and 

77 


The  Holy  Earth 

in  a  way  that  would  rouse  any  community  and 
violate  law  if  it  were  enacted  in  real  life. 

It  is  difficult  to  explain  these  survivals  when  we 
pretend  to  be  so  much  shocked  by  the  struggle  for 
existence.  We  must  accept  the  struggle,  but  we 
ought  to  try  to  understand  it.  The  actual  suffer- 
ing among  the  creatures  as  the  result  of  this  struggle 
is  probably  small,  and  the  bloody  and  ferocious  con- 
test that  we  like  to  picture  to  ourselves  is  relatively 
insignificant.  There  is  a  righteous  element  in  the 
struggle;  or,  more  truthfully,  the  struggle  itself  is 
right.  Every  living  and  sentient  thing  persists  by 
its  merit  and  by  its  right.  It  persists  within  its 
sphere,  and  usually  not  in  the  sphere  of  some  other 
creature.  The  weeding-out  process  is  probably  re- 
lated in  some  way  with  adaptability,  but  only  re- 
motely with  physical  strength.  It  is  a  process  of 
applying  the  test.  The  test  is  applied  continuously, 
and  not  in  some  violent  upheaval. 

If  one  looks  for  a  moral  significance  in  the  struggle 
for  existence,  one  finds  it  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  pro- 
cess of  adjustment  rather  than  a  contest  in  ambition. 

The  elimination  of  the  unessentials  and  of  the 
survivals  of  a  lower  order  of  creation  that  have  no 
proper  place  in  human  society,  is  the  daily  neces- 
sity of  the  race.  The  human  struggle  should  not 
be  on  the  plane  of  the  struggle  in  the  lower  crea- 
tion, by  the  simple  fact  that  the  human  plane  is 


The  Spiritual  Contact  with  Nature 

unlike;  and  those  who  contend  that  we  should  draw 
our  methods  of  contest  from  wild  nature  would 
therefore  put  us  back  on  the  plane  of  the  creatures 
we  are  supposed  to  have  passed.  If  there  is  one 
struggle  of  the  creeping  things,  if  there  is  one  strug- 
gle of  the  fish  of  the  sea  and  another  of  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  and  still  another  of  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
then  surely  there  must  be  still  another  order  for 
those  who  have  dominion. 


79 


The  struggle  for  existence:  war 

We  may  consider  even  further,  although  briefly, 
the  nature  of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  its  spiritual 
relation.  It  would  be  violence  to  assume  a  holy 
earth  and  a  holy  production  from  the  earth,  if  the 
contest  between  the  creatures  seems  to  violate  all 
that  we  know  as  Tightness. 

The  notion  of  the  contentious  and  sanguinary 
struggle  for  existence  finds  its  most  pronounced 
popular  expression  in  the  existence  of  human  war. 
It  is  a  wide-spread  opinion  that  war  is  necessary  in 
the  nature  of  things,  and,  in  fact,  it  has  been  not 
only  justified  but  glorified  on  this  basis.  We  may 
here  examine  this  contention  briefly,  and  we  may 
ask  whether,  in  the  case  of  human  beings,  there  are 
other  sufficient  means  of  personal  and  social  devel- 
opment than  by  mortal  combat  with  one's  fellows. 
We  may  ask  whether  the  principle  of  enmity  or  the 
principle  of  fellow  feeling  is  the  more  important  and 
controlling. 

We  are  not  to  deny  or  even  to  overlook  the  great 
results  that  have  come  from  war.  Virile  races  have 
forced  themselves  to  the  front  and  have  impressed 

80 


The  Struggle  for  Existence:  War 

their  stamp  on  society;  the  peoples  have  been  mixed 
and  also  assorted;  lethargic  folk  have  been  galva- 
nized into  activity;  iron  has  been  put  into  men's 
sinews;  heroic  deeds  have  arisen;  old  combinations 
and  intrigues  have  been  broken  up  (although  new 
ones  take  then-  place).  A  kind  of  national  purifi- 
cation may  result  from  a  great  war.  The  state  of 
human  affairs  has  been  brought  to  its  present  con- 
dition largely  as  the  issue  of  wars. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  are  not  to  overlook  the 
damaging  results,  the  destruction,  the  anguish,  the 
check  to  all  productive  enterprise,  the  hatred  and 
revenge,  the  hypocrisy  and  deceit,  the  despicable 
foreign  spy  system,  the  loss  of  standards,  the  de- 
moralization, the  lessening  respect  and  regard  for 
the  rights  of  the  other,  the  breeding  of  human 
parasites  that  fatten  at  the  fringes  of  disaster,  the 
levying  of  tribute,  the  setting  up  of  unnatural 
boundaries,  the  thwarting  of  national  and  racial 
developments  which,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  gave 
every  promise  of  great  results.  We  naturally  extol 
the  nations  that  have  survived;  we  do  not  know 
how  many  superior  stocks  may  have  been  sacrificed 
to  military  conquest,  or  how  many  racial  possibilities 
may  have  been  suppressed  in  their  beginnings. 

Vast  changes  in  mental  attitudes  may  result  from 
a  great  war,  and  the  course  of  civilization  may  be 
deflected;  and  while  we  adjust  ourselves  to  these 

81 


The  Holy  Earth 

changes,  no  one  may  say  at  the  time  that  they  are 
just  or  even  that  they  are  temporarily  best.  We 
are  never  able  at  the  moment  to  measure  the  effects 
of  the  unholy  conquest  of  peoples  who  should  not 
have  been  conquered;  these  results  work  themselves 
out  in  tribulation  and  perhaps  in  loss  of  effort  and 
of  racial  standards  through  many  weary  centuries. 
Force,  or  even  "success,"  cannot  justify  theft. 

But  even  assuming  the  great  changes  that  have 
arisen  from  war,  this  is  not  a  justification  of  war; 
it  only  states  a  fact,  it  only  provides  a  measure  of 
the  condition  of  society  at  any  epoch.  It  is  prob- 
able that  war  will  still  exert  a  mighty  even  if  a  less- 
ening influence;  it  may  still  be  necessary  to  resort 
to  arms  to  win  for  a  people  its  natural  opportunity 
and  to  free  a  race  from  bondage;  and  if  any  people 
has  a  right  to  its  own  existence,  it  has  an  equal 
right  and  indeed  a  duty  to  defend  itself.  But  this 
again  only  indicates  the  wretched  state  of  develop- 
ment in  which  we  live.  Undoubtedly,  also,  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  military  training  is  very  useful,  but 
there  should  be  other  ways,  in  a  democracy,  to  se- 
cure something  of  this  needful  training. 

The  struggle  for  existence,  as  expressed  in  human 
combat,  does  not  necessarily  result  in  the  survival 
of  the  most  desirable,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  define 
desirability.  We  are  confusing  very  unlike  situa- 
tions in  our  easy  application  of  the  struggle  for  ex- 

82 


The  Struggle  for  Existence:  War 

istence  to  war.  The  struggle  is  not  now  between 
individuals  to  decide  the  fitter;  it  is  between  vast 
bodies  hurling  death  by  wholesale.  We  pick  the 
physically  fit  and  send  them  to  the  battle-line;  and 
these  fit  are  slain.  This  is  not  the  situation  in 
nature  from  which  we  draw  our  illustrations.  More- 
over, the  final  test  of  fitness  in  nature  is  adaptation, 
not  power.  Adaptation  and  adjustment  mean 
peace,  not  war.  Physical  force  has  been  immensely 
magnified  in  the  human  sphere;  we  even  speak  of  the 
great  nations  as  "powers,"  a  terminology  that 
some  day  we  shall  regret.  The  military  method  of 
civilization  finds  no  justification  in  the  biological 
struggle  for  existence. 

The  final  conquest  of  a  man  is  of  himself,  and 
he  shall  then  be  greater  than  when  he  takes  a  city. 
The  final  conquest  of  a  society  is  of  itself,  and  it 
shall  then  be  greater  than  when  it  conquers  its 
neighboring  society. 

Man  now  begins  to  measure  himself  against  na- 
ture also,  and  he  begins  to  see  that  herein  shall  lie 
his  greatest  conquests  beyond  himself;  in  fact,  by 
this  means  shall  he  conquer  himself, — by  great  feats 
of  engineering,  by  completer  utilization  of  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  planet,  by  vast  discoveries  in  the 
unknown,  and  by  the  final  enlargement  of  the  soul; 
and  in  these  fields  shall  be  the  heroes.  The  most 
virile  and  upstanding  qualities  can  find  expression 

83 


The  Holy  Earth 

in  the  conquest  of  the  earth.  In  the  contest  with 
the  planet  every  man  may  feel  himself  grow. 

What  we  have  done  in  times  past  shows  the  way 
by  which  we  have  come;  it  does  not  provide  a  program 
of  procedure  for  days  that  are  coming;  or  if  it  does, 
then  we  deny  the  effective  evolution  of  the  race.  We 
have  passed  witchcraft,  religious  persecution,  the  in- 
quisition, subjugation  of  women,  the  enslavement  of 
our  fellows  except  alone  enslavement  in  war. 

Here  I  come  particularly  to  a  consideration  of  the 
struggle  for  existence.  Before  I  enter  on  this  sub- 
ject, I  must  pause  to  say  that  I  would  not  of  my- 
self found  an  argument  either  for  war  or  against  it 
on  the  analogies  of  the  struggle  for  existence.  Man 
has  responsibilities  quite  apart  from  the  conditions 
that  obtain  in  the  lower  creation.  Man  is  a  moral 
agent;  animals  and  plants  are  not  moral  agents. 
But  the  argument  for  war  is  so  often  founded  on 
this  struggle  in  nature,  that  the  question  must  be 
considered. 

It  has  been  persistently  repeated  for  years  that  in 
nature  the  weakest  perish  and  that  the  victory  is 
with  the  strong,  meaning  by  that  the  physically 
powerful.  This  is  a  false  analogy  and  a  false  bi- 
ology. It  leads  men  far  astray.  It  is  the  result 
of  a  misconception  of  the  teaching  of  evolution. 

Our  minds  dwell  on  the  capture  and  the  carnage 
in  nature, — the  hawk  swooping  on  its  prey,  the  cat 

84 


The  Struggle  for  Existence:  War 

stealthily  watching  for  the  mouse,  wolves  hunting  in 
packs,  ferocious  beasts  lying  in  wait,  sharks  that 
follow  ships,  serpents  with  venomous  fangs,  the  vast 
range  of  parasitism;  and  with  the  poet  we  say  that 
nature  is  "red  in  tooth  and  claw."  Of  course,  we 
are  not  to  deny  the  struggle  of  might  against  might, 
which  is  mostly  between  individuals,  and  of  which 
we  are  all  aware;  but  the  weak  and  the  fragile  and 
the  small  are  the  organisms  that  have  persisted. 
There  are  thousands  of  little  and  soft  things  still 
abundant  in  the  world  that  have  outlived  the  fear- 
some ravenous  monsters  of  ages  past;  there  were 
Goliaths  in  those  days,  but  the  Davids  have  out- 
lived them,  and  Gath  is  not  peopled  by  giants. 
The  big  and  strong  have  not  triumphed. 

The  struggle  in  nature  is  not  a  combat,  as  we 
commonly  understand  that  word,  and  it  is  not  war- 
fare. The  earth  is  not  strewn  with  corpses. 

I  was  impressed  in  reading  Roosevelt's  "African 
Game  Trails"  with  the  great  extent  of  small  and 
defenseless  and  fragile  animal  life  that  abounds  in 
the  midst  of  the  terrible  beasts, — little  uncoura- 
gcous  things  that  hide  in  the  crevices,  myriads  that 
fly  in  the  air,  those  that  ride  on  the  rhinos,  that 
swim  and  hide  in  the  pools,  and  bats  that  hang  in 
the  acacia-trees.  He  travelled  in  the  region  of  the 
lion,  in  the  region  that  "holds  the  mightiest  crea- 
tures that  tread  the  earth  or  swim  in  its  rivers;  it 

85 


The  Holy  Earth 

also  holds  distant  kinsfolk  of  these  same  creatures, 
no  bigger  than  woodchucks,  which  dwell  in  crannies 
of  the  rocks,  and  in  the  tree  tops.  There  are  ante- 
lope smaller  than  hares  and  antelope  larger  than 
oxen.  There  are  creatures  which  are  the  embodi- 
ment of  grace;  and  others  whose  huge  ungainliness 
is  like  that  of  a  shape  in  a  nightmare.  The  plains 
are  alive  with  droves  of  strange  and  beautiful  ani- 
mals whose  like  is  not  known  elsewhere."  The  lion 
is  mighty;  he  is  the  king  of  beasts;  but  he  keeps 
his  place  and  he  has  no  kingdom.  He  has  not  mas- 
tered the  earth.  No  beast  has  ever  overcome  the 
earth;  and  the  natural  world  has  never  been  con- 
quered by  muscular  force. 

Nature  is  not  in  a  state  of  perpetual  enmity,  one 
part  with  another. 

My  friend  went  to  a  far  country.  He  told  me 
that  he  was  most  impressed  with  the  ferocity,  chiefly 
of  wild  men.  It  came  my  time  to  go  to  that  coun- 
try. I  saw  that  men  had  been  savage, — men  are 
the  most  ferocious  of  animals,  and  the  ferocity  has 
never  reached  its  high  point  of  refined  fury  until 
to-day.  (Of  course,  savages  fight  and  slay;  this  is 
because  they  are  savages.)  But  I  saw  also  that  these 
savage  men  are  passing  away.  I  saw  animals  that 
had  never  tasted  blood,  that  had  no  means  of  de- 
fense against  a  rapacious  captor,  and  yet  they  were 
multiplying.  Every  stone  that  I  upturned  dis- 

86 


The  Struggle  for  Existence:  War 

closed  some  tender  organism;  every  bush  that  I  dis- 
turbed revealed  some  timid  atom  of  animal  life; 
every  spot  where  I  walked  bore  some  delicate  plant, 
and  I  recalled  the  remark  of  Sir  J.  William  Dawson 
"that  frail  and  delicate  plants  may  be  more  ancient 
than  the  mountains  or  plains  on  which  they  live"; 
and  if  I  went  on  the  sea,  I  saw  the  medusae,  as  frail 
as  a  poet's  dream,  with  the  very  sunshine  streaming 
through  them,  yet  holding  their  own  in  the  mighty 
upheaval  of  the  oceans;  and  I  reflected  on  the 
myriads  of  microscopic  things  that  for  untold  ages 
had  cast  the  very  rock  on  which  much  of  the  ocean 
rests.  The  minor  things  and  the  weak  things  are 
the  most  numerous,  and  they  have  played  the 
greatest  part  in  the  polity  of  nature.  So  I  came 
away  from  that  far  country  impressed  with  the 
power  of  the  little  feeble  things.  I  had  a  new  under- 
standing of  the  worth  of  creatures  so  unobtrusive 
and  so  silent  that  the  multitude  does  not  know  them. 
I  saw  protective  colorings;  I  saw  fleet  wings  and 
swift  feet;  I  saw  the  ability  to  hide  and  to  conceal; 
I  saw  habits  of  adaptation;  I  saw  marvellous  powers 
of  reproduction.  You  have  seen  them  in  every 
field;  you  have  met  them  on  your  casual  walks, 
until  you  accept  them  as  the  natural  order  of  things. 
And  you  know  that  the  beasts  of  prey  have  not 
prevailed.  The  whole  contrivance  of  nature  is  to 
protect  the  weak. 

87 


We  have  wrongly  visualized  the  "struggle."  We 
have  given  it  an  intensely  human  application.  We 
need  to  go  back  to  Darwin  who  gave  significance  to 
the  phrase  "struggle  for  existence."  "I  use  this 
term,"  he  said,  "in  a  large  and  metaphorical  sense, 
including  dependence  of  one  being  on  another,  and 
including  (which  is  more  important)  not  only  the 
life  of  the  individual,  but  success  in  leaving  prog- 
eny." The  dependence  of  one  being  on  another, 
success  in  leaving  progeny, — how  accurate  and  how 
far-seeing  was  Darwin ! 

I  hope  that  I  speak  to  naturists  and  to  farmers. 
They  know  how  diverse  are  the  forms  of  life;  and 
they  know  that  somehow  these  forms  live  together 
and  that  only  rarely  do  whole  races  perish  by  sub- 
jugation. They  know  that  the  beasts  do  not  set 
forth  to  conquer,  but  only  to  gain  subsistence  and 
to  protect  themselves.  The  beasts  and  birds  do  not 
pursue  indiscriminately.  A  hen-hawk  does  not  at- 
tack crows  or  butterflies.  Even  a  vicious  bull  does 
not  attack  fowls  or  rabbits  or  sheep.  The  great 
issues  are  the  issues  of  live  and  let-live.  There  are 
whole  nations  of  plants,  more  unlike  than  nations 
of  humankind,  living  together  in  mutual  interde- 
pendence. There  are  nations  of  quiet  and  might- 
less  animals  that  live  in  the  very  regions  of  the 
mighty  and  the  stout.  And  we  are  glad  it  is  so. 

Consider  the  mockery  of  invoking  the  struggle 
88 


The  Struggle  for  Existence:  War 

for  existence  as  justification  for  a  battle  on  a  June 
morning,  when  all  nature  is  vibrant  with  life  and  com- 
petition is  severe,  and  when,  if  ever,  we  are  to  look 
for  strife.  But  the  very  earth  breathes  peace.  The 
fulness  of  every  field  and  wood  is  in  complete  ad- 
justment. The  teeming  multitudes  of  animal  and 
plant  have  found  a  way  to  live  together,  and  we 
look  abroad  on  a  vast  harmony,  verdurous,  prolific, 
abounding.  Into  this  concord,  project  your  holo- 
caust I 


The  daily  fare 

Some  pages  back,  I  said  something  about  the  es- 
sential simplicity  in  habit  of  life  that  results  from  the 
nature  contact,  and  I  illustrated  the  remark  by  call- 
ing attention  to  the  righteousness  of  simple  eating 
and  drinking.  Of  course,  the  eating  must  be  sub- 
stantial, but  the  adventitious  appetites  accomplish 
nothing  and  they  may  be  not  only  intemperate 
and  damaging  to  health  but  even  unmoral.  Yet 
it  is  not  alone  the  simplicity  of  the  daily  fare  that 
interests  me  here,  but  the  necessity  that  it  shall 
be  as  direct  as  possible  from  the  ground  or  the  sea, 
and  that  it  shall  be  undisguised  and  shall  have 
meaning  beyond  the  satisfying  of  the  appetite. 

I  was  interested  in  Tusser's  "Christmas  hus- 
bandly fare,"  notwithstanding  some  suggestion  of 
gluttony  in  it  and  of  oversupply.  There  is  a  certain 
vigor  and  good  relish  about  it,  and  lack  of  osten- 
tation, that  seem  to  suggest  a  lesson. 

It  was  more  than  three  centuries  ago  that  native 
Thomas  Tusser,  musician,  chorister,  and  farmer, 
gave  to  the  world  his  incomparable  "Five  Hun- 
dred Points  of  Good  Husbandry."  He  covered  the 
farm  year  and  the  farm  work  as  completely  as 

90 


The  Daily  Fare 

Vergil  had  covered  it  more  than  fifteen  centuries 
before;  and  he  left  us  sketches  of  the  countryside 
of  his  day,  and  the  ways  of  the  good  plain  folk,  and 
quaint  bits  of  philosophy  and  counsel.  He  cele- 
brated the  Christmas  festival  with  much  conviction, 
and  in  the  homely  way  of  the  home  folks,  deriving 
his  satisfactions  from  the  things  that  the  land  pro- 
duces. His  sketches  are  wholesome  reading  in  these 
days  of  foods  transported  from  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  compounded  by  impersonal  devices  and  con- 
densed into  packages  that  go  into  every  house  alike. 
Thomas  Tusser  would  celebrate  with  "things 
handsome  to  have,  as  they  ought  to  be  had."  His 
board  wrould  not  be  scant  of  provisions,  for  he  seems 
not  to  have  advised  the  simple  life  in  the  way  of 
things  good  to  eat;  but  he  chose  good  raw  mate- 
rials, and  we  can  imagine  that  the  "good  husband 
and  huswife"  gave  these  materials  their  best  com- 
pliments and  prepared  them  with  diligence  and 
skill.  Not  once  does  he  suggest  that  these  mate- 
rials be  secured  from  the  market,  or  that  any  im- 
ported labor  be  employed  in  the  preparation  of 
them. 

"Good  bread  and  good  drink,  a  good  fire  in  the  hall, 
Brawn,  pudding,  and  souse,  and  good  mustard  withal." 

Here  is  the  whole  philosophy  of  the  contented 
festival, — the  fruit  of  one's  labor,  the  common  gen- 

91 


The  Holy  Earth 

uine  materials,  and  the  cheer  of  the  family  fireside. 
The  day  is  to  be  given  over  to  the  spirit  of  the  cele- 
bration; every  common  object  will  glow  with  a  new 
consecration,  and  everything  will  be  good, — even 
the  mustard  will  be  good  withal.  What  a  contempt 
old  Tusser  would  have  had  for  all  the  imported  and 
fabricated  condiments  and  trivialities  that  now  come 
to  our  tables  in  packages  suggestive  of  medicines 
and  drugs !  And  how  ridiculously  would  they  have 
stood  themselves  beside  the  brawn,  pudding,  and 
souse!  A  few  plain  accessories,  every  one  stout 
and  genuine,  and  in  good  quantity,  must  accom- 
pany the  substantialities  that  one  takes  with  a  free 
hand  directly  from  the  land  that  one  manages. 

It  surprises  us  that  he  had  such  a  bountiful  list 
from  which  to  draw,  and  yet  the  kinds  are  not  more 
than  might  be  secured  from  any  good  land  property, 
if  one  set  about  securing  them: 

"Beef,  mutton,  and  pork,  shred  pies  of  the  best, 
Pig,  veal,  goose,  and  capon,  and  turkey  well  drest, 
Cheese,  apples,  and  nuts,  joly  carols  to  hear, 
As  then  in  the  country,  is  counted  good  cheer." 

In  these  days  we  should  draw  less  heavily  on  the 
meats,  for  in  the  three  centuries  we  have  gained 
greatly  in  the  vegetable  foods.  Tusser  did  not  have 
the  potato.  But  nevertheless,  these  materials  are 
of  the  very  bone  of  the  land.  They  grow  up  with 

92 


The  Daily  Fare 

the  year  and  out  of  the  conditions,  and  they  have 
all  the  days  in  them,  the  sunshine,  the  rain,  the 
dew  of  morning,  the  wind,  the  cold  foggy  nights,  and 
the  work  of  laborious  hands.  Every  one  of  them 
means  something  to  the  person  who  raises  them, 
and  there  is  no  impersonality  in  them.  John's 
father  drained  the  land  when  yet  he  was  a  boy; 
the  hedges  were  set;  long  ago  the  place  was  laid 
out  in  its  rotations;  the  old  trees  in  the  fields  are  a 
part  of  it;  every  stall  in  the  stables  and  every  win- 
dow-seat in  the  old  house  hold  memories;  and  John 
has  grown  up  with  these  memories,  and  with  these 
fields,  and  with  the  footpaths  that  lead  out  over 
brooks  and  amongst  the  herds  of  cattle.  It  is  a 
part  of  his  religion  to  keep  the  land  well;  and  these 
supplies  at  Christmas  time  are  taken  with  a  deep 
reverence  for  the  goodness  that  is  in  them,  and  with 
a  pride  in  having  produced  them. 

And  Thomas  Tusser,  good  husbandman,  rejoiced 
that  these  bounties  cost  no  cash: 

"What  cost  to  good  husband,  is  any  of  this? 
Good  household  provision  only  it  is. 
Of  other  the  like,  I  do  leave  out  a  many 
That  costeth  a  husbandman  never  a  penny." 

To  farm  well;  to  provide  well;  to  produce  it  one- 
self; to  be  independent  of  trade,  so  far  as  this  is 
possible  in  the  furnishing  of  the  table, — these  are 

93 


good  elements  in  living.  And  in  this  day  we  are 
rapidly  losing  all  this;  many  persons  already  have 
lost  it;  many  have  never  known  the  satisfaction 
of  it.  Most  of  us  must  live  from  the  box  and  the 
bottle  and  the  tin-can;  we  are  even  feeding  our 
cattle  from  the  factory  and  the  bag.  The  farmer 
now  raises  a  few  prime  products  to  sell,  and  then 
he  buys  his  foods  in  the  markets  under  label  and 
tag;  and  he  knows  not  who  produced  the  materials, 
and  he  soon  comes  not  to  care.  No  thought  of  the 
seasons,  and  of  the  men  and  women  who  labored, 
of  the  place,  of  the  kind  of  soil,  of  the  special  con- 
tribution of  the  native  earth,  come  with  the  trade- 
mark or  the  brand.  And  so  we  all  live  mechani- 
cally, from  shop  to  table,  without  contact,  and 
irreverently. 

May  we  not  once  in  the  year  remember  the  earth 
in  the  food  that  we  eat  ?  May  we  not  in  some  way, 
even  though  we  live  in  town,  so  organize  our  Christ- 
mas festival  that  the  thought  of  the  goodness  of  the 
land  and  its  bounty  shall  be  a  conscious  part  of  our 
celebration?  May  we  not  for  once  reduce  to  the 
very  minimum  the  supply  of  manufactured  and 
sophisticated  things,  and  come  somewhere  near,  at 
least  in  spirit,  to  a  "Christmas  husbandly  fare?" 

Yet,  Thomas  Tusser  would  not  confine  his  hus- 
bandly fare  to  the  Christmas  time.  In  another 
poem,  he  gives  us  "The  farmer's  daily  diet,"  in  which 

94 


The  Daily  Fare 

the  sturdy  products  are  still  much  the  same,  secured 
and  prepared  by  those  who  partake.  All  this  may 
be  little  applicable  literally  in  our  present  living, 
and  yet  I  think  it  is  easily  possible,  as  certainly  it 
is  very  desirable,  to  develop  a  new  attitude  toward 
the  table  fare,  avoiding  much  unnecessary  and  in- 
significant household  labor  and  lending  an  attitude 
of  good  morality  to  the  daily  sustenance. 

Much  of  our  eating  and  feasting  is  a  vicious 
waste  of  time,  and  also  of  human  energy  that  might 
be  put  to  good  uses.  One  can  scarcely  conceive 
how  such  indirect  and  uncomfortable  and  expensive 
methods  could  have  come  into  use.  Perhaps  they 
originated  with  persons  of  quality  in  an  aristocratic 
society,  when  an  abundance  of  servants  must  be 
trained  to  serve  and  when  distinctions  in  eating 
were  a  part  of  the  distinction  in  rank.  But  to 
have  introduced  these  laborious  and  unintelligent 
methods  into  hotels,  where  persons  tarry  for  com- 
fort and  into  homes  that  do  not  need  to  maintain 
an  extrinsic  appearance,  is  a  vain  and  ludicrous 
imitation.  The  numbers  of  courses,  with  more  ser- 
vice than  food,  that  one  often  meets  at  the  table 
d'hote  of  the  frequented  hotels  abroad,  are  most 
exasperating  to  one  who  values  time  and  has  a 
serious  purpose  in  travel  and  a  rightful  care  for  the 
bodily  apparatus.  Here  is  the  performance — it  was 
nothing  more  than  a  performance,  consisting  in  re- 

95 


The  Holy  Earth 

peated  changing  of  all  the  dishes,  the  removing  of 
every  fragment  of  edibles,  and  in  passing  very  small 
separate  parcels  of  food — that  it  was  my  lot  to  en- 
dure on  an  otherwise  happy  day  in  a  hotel  that 
had  little  else  to  distinguish  it: 

Course  1.     Dry  bread  (no  butter). 

Removal. 
Course  2.     Soup  (nothing  else). 

Removal. 
Course  3.     Fish  (very  economical),  with  a  potato  on  the  side. 

Removal. 
Course  4.     Veal,  macaroni. 

Removal. 
Course  5.     Spoonful  of  green  beans  (nothing  else). 

Removal. 
Course  6.     Beef  and  salad  (fragmentary). 

Removal. 
Course  7.    Charlotte  Russe,  bit  of  cake. 

Removal. 
Course  8.     Fruit  (slight). 

Removal. 
Course  9.     Morsel  of  cheese,  one  cracker. 

Removal. 
Course  10.  Coffee. 

Relief. 

The  traveler  knows  that  this  species  of  time- 
wasting  is  not  unusual;  certainly  the  food  is  not 
unusual  and  does  not  merit  such  considerate  at- 
tention, although  it  may  profit  by  the  magnifica- 
tion. All  this  contributes  nothing  to  human  effi- 
ciency— quite  the  reverse — and  certainly  nothing  to 

96 


The  Daily  Fare 

the  rightful  gusto  in  the  enjoyment  of  one's  sub- 
sistence. It  is  a  ceremony.  Such  laborious  use- 
lessness  is  quite  immoral. 

I  am  afraid  that  our  food  habits  very  well  rep- 
resent how  far  we  have  moved  away  from  the  essen- 
tials and  how  much  we  have  misled  ourselves  as 
to  the  standards  of  excellence.  I  looked  in  a  cook- 
book to  learn  how  to  serve  potatoes:  I  found  twenty- 
three  recipes,  every  one  of  which  was  apparently 
designed  to  disguise  the  fact  that  they  were  pota- 
toes; and  yet  there  is  really  nothing  in  a  potato 
to  be  ashamed  of.  Of  course,  this  kind  of  decep- 
tion is  not  peculiar  to  cookery.  It  is  of  the  same 
piece  as  the  stamping  of  the  metal  building  cover- 
ings in  forms  to  represent  brick  and  stone,  although 
everybody  knows  that  they  are  not  brick  and  stone, 
rather  than  to  make  a  design  that  shall  express 
metal  and  thereby  frankly  tell  the  truth;  of  the  same 
kind  also  as  the  casting  of  cement  blocks  to  rep- 
resent undressed  rock,  although  every  one  is  aware 
of  the  deception,  rather  than  to  develop  a  form  that 
will  express  cement  blocks  as  brick  expresses  brick; 
of  the  same  order  as  the  inflating  of  good  whole- 
some water  by  carbonic  gas;  and  all  the  other  de- 
ceits in  materials  on  which  our  common  affairs  are 
built.  It  is,  of  course,  legitimate  to  present  our 
foods  in  many  forms  that  we  may  secure  variety 
even  with  scant  and  common  materials;  but  dan- 

97 


The  Holy  Earth 

ger  may  lie  in  any  untruthfulness  with  which  we 
use  the  raw  materials  of  life. 

So  cookery  has  come  to  be  a  process  of  conceal- 
ment. Not  only  does  it  conceal  the  materials,  but 
it  also  conceals  the  names  of  them  in  a  ridiculous 
nomenclature.  Apparently,  the  higher  the  art  of 
cookery,  the  greater  is  the  merit  of  complete  con- 
cealment. I  think  that  one  reason  why  persons  en- 
joy the  simple  cooking  of  farmers  and  sailors  and 
other  elemental  folk,  is  because  of  its  comparative 
lack  of  disguise,  although  they  may  not  be  aware  of 
this  merit  of  it.  We  have  so  successfully  disguised 
our  viands  through  so  many  years  that  it  is  not 
"good  form"  to  make  inquiries:  we  may  not  smell 
the  food,  although  the  odor  should  be  one  of  the 
best  and  most  rightful  satisfactions,  as  it  is  in  fruits 
and  flowers.  We  may  smell  a  parsnip  or  a  potato 
when  it  grows  in  the  field,  but  not  when  it  is 
cooked. 

We  add  the  extrinsic  and  meaningless  odors  of 
spices  and  flavorings,  forgetting  that  odor  no  less 
than  music  hath  occasions;  each  of  the  materials 
has  its  own  odor  that  the  discriminating  cook 
will  try  to  bring  out  in  its  best  expression.  Were 
we  to  be  deprived  of  all  these  exotic  seasonings,  un- 
doubtedly cookery  would  be  the  gainer  in  the  end; 
nor  could  we  so  readily  disguise  materials  that  in 
themselves  are  not  fit  to  eat.  There  is  a  reason 

98 


The  Daily  Fare 

why  "all  foods  taste  alike,"  as  we  often  hear  it 
said  of  the  cooking  in  public  places. 

Moreover,  we  want  everything  that  is  out  of 
season,  necessitating  great  attention  to  the  arts  of 
preserving  and  requiring  still  further  fabrication; 
and  by  this  desire  we  also  lessen  the  meaning  of  the 
seasons  when  they  come  in  their  natural  sequence, 
bringing  their  treasure  of  materials  that  are  adapted 
to  the  time  and  to  the  place.  We  can  understand, 
then,  why  it  so  happens  that  we  neglect  the  cookery 
of  the  common  foods,  as  seeming  to  be  not  quite 
worth  the  while,  and  expend  ourselves  with  so  much 
effort  on  the  accessories  and  the  frills.  I  have  been 
interested  to  observe  some  of  the  instruction  in  cook- 
ing,— how  it  often  begins  with  little  desserts,  and 
fudge,  and  a  variety  of  dib-dabs.  This  is  much 
like  the  instruction  in  manual  training  that  begins 
with  formal  and  meaningless  model  work  or  triviali- 
ties and  neglects  the  issues  of  life.  It  is  much  like 
some  of  the  teaching  in  agriculture  not  so  many  years 
ago,  before  we  attacked  very  effectively  the  serious 
problems  of  wheat  and  alfalfa  and  forests  and  mar- 
kets. Mastery  does  not  lie  in  these  pieces  of  play 
work,  nor  does  the  best  intellectual  interest  on  the 
part  of  the  student  reside  in  them. 

Result  is  that  one  finds  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
securing  a  really  good  baked  potato,  a  well-cooked 
steak,  or  a  wholesome  dish  of  apple-sauce  that  is 

99 


The  Holy  Earth 

not  strained  and  flavored  beyond  recognition.  It  is 
nearly  impossible  for  one  to  secure  an  egg  fried  hard 
and  yet  very  tender  and  that  has  not  been  "turned " 
or  scorched  on  the  edges, — this  is  quite  the  test  of 
the  skill  of  the  good  cook.  The  notion  that  a  hard 
fried  egg  is  dangerously  indigestible  is  probably  a 
fable  of  poor  cookery.  One  can  secure  many  sophis- 
ticated and  disguised  egg  dishes,  but  I  think  skill 
in  plainly  cooking  eggs  is  almost  an  unknown  art, 
perhaps  a  little-practised  art. 

Now,  it  is  on  these  simple  and  essential  things 
that  I  would  start  my  instruction  in  cookery;  and 
this  not  only  for  the  gain  to  good  eating  but  also 
for  the  advantage  of  vigor  and  good  morals.  I  am 
afraid  that  our  cooking  does  not  set  a  good  example 
before  the  young  three  times  every  day  in  the  year; 
and  how  eager  are  the  young  and  how  amenable  to 
suggestion  at  these  three  blessed  epochs  every  day 
in  the  year ! 

Some  unsympathetic  reader  will  say  that  I  am 
drawing  a  long  bowr;  yet  undoubtedly  our  cookery 
has  prepared  the  public  mind  for  the  adulteration. 
Knowing  the  elaboration  of  many  of  the  foods  and 
fancy  dishes,  the  use  of  flavoring  and  spice  and 
other  additions  to  disguise  unwholesome  materials, 
the  addition  of  coloring  matter  to  make  things  at- 
tractive, the  mixtures,  the  elaborate  designs  and 
trimmings  and  concoctions,  and  various  deceptions, 
100 


The  Daily  Fare 

one  wonders  how  far  is  the  step  from  some  of  the 
cookery  to  some  of  the  adulteration  and  whether 
these  processes  are  really  all  of  one  piece.  I  will 
leave  with  my  reader  a  paragraph  assembled  from  a 
statement  made  by  a  food  chemist  but  a  few  years 
ago,  to  let  him  compare  adulteration  with  what  is 
regarded  as  legitimate  food  preparation  and  note  the 
essential  similarity  of  many  of  the  processes.  I  do 
not  mean  to  enter  the  discussion  of  food  adultera- 
tion, and  I  do  not  know  whether  these  sophistica- 
tions are  true  at  the  present  day;  but  the  statement 
describes  a  situation  in  which  we  found  ourselves 
and  indicates  what  had  become  a  staggering  infidel- 
ity in  the  use  of  the  good  raw  materials. 

Hamburg  steak  often  contains  sodium  sulphite; 
bologna  sausage  and  similar  meats  until  recently 
usually  contained  a  large  percentage  of  added  cereal. 
"Pancake  flour"  often  contains  little  if  any  buck- 
wheat; wheat  flour  is  bleached  with  nitric  oxide  to 
improve  its  appearance.  Fancy  French  peas  are 
colored  with  sulphate  of  copper.  Bottled  ketchup 
usually  contains  benzoate  of  soda  as  a  preserva- 
tive. Japanese  tea  is  colored  with  cyanide  of 
potassium  and  iron.  Prepared  mustard  usually 
contains  a  large  quantity  of  added  starch  and  is 
colored  with  tumeric.  Ground  coffee  has  recently 
been  adulterated  with  roasted  peas.  So-called  non- 
alcoholic bottled  beverages  often  contain  alcohol  or 
101 


The  Holy  Earth 

a  habit-forming  drug  and  are  usually  colored  with 
aniline.  Candy  is  commonly  colored  with  aniline 
dye  and  often  coated  with  paraffine  to  prevent 
evaporation.  Cheap  candies  contain  such  sub- 
stances as  glue  and  soapstone.  The  higher-priced 
kinds  of  molasses  usually  contain  sulphites.  Flavor- 
ing extracts  seldom  are  made  from  pure  products 
and  usually  are  artificially  colored.  Jams  are  made 
of  apple  jelly  with  the  addition  of  coloring  matter 
and  also  of  seeds  to  imitate  berries  from  which  they 
are  supposed  to  be  made;  the  cheap  apple  jelly  is 
itself  often  imitated  by  a  mixture  of  glucose,  starch, 
aniline  dye,  and  flavoring.  Lard  nearly  always  con- 
tains added  tallow.  Bakeries  in  large  cities  have 
used  decomposed  products,  as  decayed  eggs.  Cheap 
ice-cream  is  often  made  of  gelatin,  glue,  and  starch. 
Cottonseed-oil  is  sold  for  olive-oil.  The  poison 
saccharine  is  often  used  in  place  of  sugar  in  prepared 
sweetened  products. 

The  attentive  reader  of  the  public  prints  in  the 
recent  years  can  greatly  extend  this  humiliating 
recital  if  he  choose.  It  is  our  habit  to  attach  all 
the  blame  to  the  adulterators,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
excuse  them;  but  we  usually  find  that  there  are 
contributory  causes  and  certainly  there  must  be 
reasons.  Has  our  daily  fare  been  honest  ? 


102 


The  admiration  of  good  materials 

Not  even  yet  am  I  done  with  this  plain  problem 
of  the  daily  fare.  The  very  fact  that  it  is  daily — • 
thrice  daily — and  that  it  enters  so  much  into  the 
thought  and  effort  of  every  one  of  us,  makes  it  a 
subject  of  the  deepest  concern  from  every  point  of 
view.  The  aspect  of  the  case  that  I  am  now  to  re- 
assert is  the  effect  of  much  of  our  food  preparation 
in  removing  us  from  a  knowledge  of  the  good  raw 
materials  that  come  out  of  the  abounding  earth. 

Let  us  stop  to  admire  an  apple.  I  see  a  com- 
mittee of  the  old  worthies  in  some  fruit-show  going 
slowly  and  discriminatingly  among  the  plates  of 
fruits,  discussing  the  shapes  and  colors  and  sizes, 
catching  the  fragrance,  debating  the  origins  and 
the  histories,  and  testing  them  with  the  utmost 
precaution  and  deliberation;  and  I  follow  to  hear 
their  judgment. 

This  kind  of  apple  is  very  perfect  in  spherical 
form,  deeply  cut  at  the  stem,  well  ridged  at  the 
shallow  crater,  beautifully  splashed  and  streaked 
with  carmine-red  on  a  yellowish  green  under-color, 
finely  flecked  with  dots,  slightly  russet  on  the  shaded 
side,  apparently  a  good  keeper;  its  texture  is  fine- 
grained and  uniform,  flavor  mildly  subacid,  the  qual- 
103 


The  Holy  Earth 

ity  good  to  very  good;  if  the  tree  is  hardy  and  produc- 
tive, this  variety  is  to  be  recommended  to  the  ama- 
teur for  further  trial !  The  next  sample  is  somewhat 
elongated  in  form,  rather  below  the  average  in 
color,  the  stem  very  long  and  well  set  and  indi- 
cating a  fruit  that  does  not  readily  drop  in  wind- 
storms, the  texture  exceedingly  melting  but  the 
flavor  slightly  lacking  in  character  and  therefore 
rendering  it  of  doubtful  value  for  further  test.  An- 
other sample  lacks  decidedly  in  quality,  as  judged 
by  the  specimens  on  the  table,  and  the  exhibitor  is 
respectfully  recommended  to  withdraw  it  from  fu- 
ture exhibitions;  another  kind  has  a  very  pronounced 
aromatic  odor,  which  will  commend  it  to  persons 
desiring  to  grow  a  choice  collection  of  interesting 
fruits;  still  another  is  of  good  size,  very  firm  and 
solid,  of  uniform  red  color,  slightly  oblate  and  there- 
fore lending  itself  to  easy  packing,  quality  fair  to 
good,  and  if  the  tree  bears  such  uniform  samples  as 
those  shown  on  the  table  it  apparently  gives  prom- 
ise of  some  usefulness  as  a  market  sort.  My  older 
friends,  if  they  have  something  of  the  feeling  of  the 
pomologist,  can  construct  the  remainder  of  the 
picture. 

In  physical  perfectness  of  form  and  texture  and 

color,  there  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  that  exceeds 

a  well-grown  fruit.     Let  it  lie  in  the  palm  of  your 

hand.    Close  your  fingers  slowly  about  it.    Feel  its 

104 


The  Admiration  of  Good  Materials 

firm  or  soft  and  modelled  surface.  Put  it  against 
your  cheek,  and  inhale  its  fragrance.  Trace  its 
neutral  under-colors,  and  follow  its  stripes  and  mark 
its  dots.  If  an  apple,  trace  the  eye  that  lies  in  a 
moulded  basin.  Note  its  stem,  how  it  stands  firmly 
in  its  cavity,  and  let  your  imagination  run  back  to 
the  tree  from  which,  when  finally  mature,  it  parted 
freely.  This  apple  is  not  only  the  product  of  your 
labor,  but  it  holds  the  essence  of  the  year  and  it  is 
in  itself  a  thing  of  exquisite  beauty.  There  is  no 
other  rondure  and  no  other  fragrance  like  this. 

I  am  convinced  that  we  need  much  to  cultivate 
this  appreciation  of  the  physical  perfectness  of  the 
fruits  that  we  grow.  We  cannot  afford  to  lose  this 
note  from  our  lives,  for  this  may  contribute  a  good 
part  of  our  satisfaction  of  being  in  the  world.  The 
discriminating  appreciation  that  one  applies  to  a 
picture  or  a  piece  of  sculpture  may  be  equally  ap- 
plied to  any  fruit  that  grows  on  the  commonest 
tree  or  bush  in  our  field  or  to  any  animal  that  stands 
on  a  green  pasture.  It  is  no  doubt  a  mark  of  a 
well-tempered  mind  that  it  can  understand  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  forms  in  fruits  and  plants  and  ani- 
mals and  apply  it  in  the  work  of  the  day. 

I  sometimes  think  that  the  rise  of  the  culinary 

arts  is  banishing  this  fine  old  appreciation  of  fruits 

in  their  natural  forms.     There  are  so  many  ways 

of  canning  and  preserving  and  evaporating  and  ex- 

105 


The  Holy  Earth 

tracting  the  juices,  so  many  disguises  and  so  much 
fabrication,  that  the  fruit  is  lost  in  the  process. 
The  tin-can  and  the  bottle  seem  to  have  put  an 
insuperable  barrier  between  us  and  nature,  and  it 
is  difficult  for  us  to  get  back  to  a  good  munch  of 
real  apples  under  a  tree  or  by  the  fireside.  The 
difficulty  is  all  the  greater  in  our  congested  city  life 
where  orchards  and  trees  are  only  a  vacant  mem- 
ory or  stories  told  to  the  young,  and  where  the 
space  in  the  larder  is  so  small  that  apples  must  be 
purchased  by  the  quart.  The  eating  of  good  apples 
out  of  hand  seems  to  be  almost  a  lost  art.  Only 
the  most  indestructible  kinds,  along  with  leather- 
skinned  oranges  and  withered  bananas,  seem  to  be 
purchasable  in  the  market.  The  discriminating 
apple-eater  in  the  Old  World  sends  to  a  growrer  for 
samples  of  the  kinds  that  he  growrs;  and  after  the 
inquirer  has  tested  them  in  the  family,  and  dis- 
cussed them,  he  orders  his  winter  supply.  The 
American  leaves  the  matter  to  the  cook  and  she 
orders  plain  apples;  and  she  gets  them. 

I  wonder  whether  in  time  the  perfection  of  fabri- 
cation will  not  reach  such  a  point  that  some  fruits 
will  be  knowrn  to  the  great  public  only  by  the  pic- 
ture on  the  package  or  on  the  bottle.  Every  process 
that  removes  us  one  step  farther  from  the  earth 
is  a  distinct  loss  to  the  people,  and  yet  we  are  rap- 
idly coming  into  the  habit  of  taking  all  things  at 
106 


The  Admiration  of  Good  Materials 

second  hand.  My  objection  to  the  wine  of  the 
grape  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  abstinence  as 
of  the  fact  that  I  find  no  particular  satisfaction  in 
the  shape  and  texture  of  a  bottle. 

If  one  has  a  sensitive  appreciation  of  the  beauty 
in  form  and  color  and  modelling  of  the  common 
fruits,  he  will  find  his  interest  gradually  extending 
to  other  products.  Some  time  ago  I  visited  Hood 
River  Valley  in  company  with  a  rugged  potato- 
grower  from  the  Rocky  Mountains.  We  were 
amazed  at  the  wonderful  scenery,  and  captivated 
by  the  beauty  of  the  fruits.  In  one  orchard  the 
owner  showed  us  with  much  satisfaction  a  brace  of 
apples  of  perfect  form  and  glowing  colors.  When 
the  grower  had  properly  expounded  the  marvels  of 
Hood  River  apples,  which  he  said  were  the  finest 
in  the  world,  my  friend  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  pulled  out  a  potato,  and  said  to  the 
man:  "Why  is  not  that  just  as  handsome  as  a 
Hood  River  apple?"  And  sure  enough  it  was. 
For  twenty-five  years  this  grower  had  been  raising 
and  selecting  the  old  Peachblow  potato,  until  he 
had  a  form  much  more  perfect  than  the  old  Peach- 
blow  ever  was,  with  a  uniform  delicate  pink  skin, 
smooth  surface,  comely  shape,  and  medium  size,  and 
with  eyes  very  small  and  scarcely  sunken;  and  my 
Hood  River  friend  admitted  that  a  potato  as  well 
as  an  apple  may  be  handsome  and  satisfying  to  the 
107 


The  Holy  Earth 

hand  and  to  the  eye,  and  well  worth  carrying  in  one's 
pocket.  But  this  was  a  high-bred  potato,  and  not 
one  of  the  common  lot. 

This  episode  of  the  potato  allows  me  another  op- 
portunity to  enforce  my  contention  that  we  lose 
the  fruit  or  the  vegetable  in  the  processes  of  cook- 
ery. The  customary  practice  of  "mashing"  po- 
tatoes takes  all  the  individuality  out  of  the  product, 
and  the  result  is  mostly  so  much  starch.  There  is  an 
important  dietary  side  to  this.  Cut  a  thin  slice  across 
a  potato  and  hold  it  to  the  light.  Note  the  interior 
undifferentiated  mass,  and  then  the  thick  band  of 
rind  surrounding  it.  The  potato  flavor  and  a  large 
part  of  the  nutriment  lie  in  this  exterior.  We  slice 
this  part  away  and  fry,  boil,  or  otherwise  fuss  up 
the  remainder.  When  we  mash  it,  we  go  still  far- 
ther and  break  down  the  potato  texture;  and  in  the 
modern  method  we  squeeze  and  strain  it  till  we 
eliminate  every  part  of  the  potato,  leaving  only  a 
pasty  mass,  w7hich,  in  my  estimation,  is  not  fit  to 
eat.  The  potato  should  be  cooked  with  the  rind  on, 
if  it  is  a  good  potato,  and  if  it  is  necessary  to  re- 
move the  outer  skin  the  process  should  be  per- 
formed after  the  cooking.  The  most  toothsome  part 
of  the  potato  is  in  these  outer  portions,  if  the  tuber 
is  well  grown  and  handled.  We  have  so  sophis- 
ticated the  potato  in  the  modern  disguised  cookery 
that  we  often  practically  ruin  it  as  an  article  of 
108 


The  Admiration  of  Good  Materials 

food,  and  we  have  bred  a  race  of  people  that  sees 
nothing  to  admire  in  a  good  and  well-grown  potato 
tuber. 

I  now  wish  to  take  an  excursion  from  the  potato 
to  the  pumpkin.  In  all  the  range  of  vegetable  prod- 
ucts, I  doubt  whether  there  is  a  more  perfect  ex- 
ample of  pleasing  form,  fine  modelling,  attractive 
texture  and  color,  and  more  bracing  odor,  than  in 
a  well-grown  and  ripe  field  pumpkin.  Place  a  pump- 
kin on  your  table;  run  your  fingers  down  its  smooth 
grooves;  trace  the  furrows  to  the  poles;  take  note 
of  its  form;  absorb  its  rich  color;  get  the  tang  of 
its  fragrance.  The  roughness  and  ruggedness  of  its 
leaves,  the  sharp-angled  stem  strongly  set,  make  a 
foil  that  a  sculptor  cannot  improve.  Then  wonder 
how  this  marvellous  thing  was  born  out  of  your 
garden  soil  through  the  medium  of  one  small  strand 
of  a  succulent  stem. 

"We  all  recognize  the  appeal  of  a  bouquet  of  flow- 
ers, but  we  are  unaware  that  we  may  have  a  bou- 
quet of  fruits.  We  have  given  little  attention  to 
arranging  them,  or  any  study  of  the  kinds  that  con- 
sort well  together,  nor  have  we  receptacles  in  which 
effectively  to  display  them.  Yet,  apples  and  oranges 
and  plums  and  grapes  and  nuts,  and  good  melons 
and  cucumbers  and  peppers  and  carrots  and  onions, 
may  be  arranged  into  the  most  artistic  and  satisfying 
combinations. 

109 


The  Holy  Earth 

I  would  fall  short  of  my  obligation  if  I  were  to 
stop  with  the  fruit  of  the  tree  and  say  nothing  about 
the  tree  or  the  plant  itself.  In  our  haste  for  lawn 
trees  of  new  kinds  and  from  the  uttermost  parts, 
we  forget  that  a  fruit-tree  is  ornamental  and  that 
it  provides  acceptable  shade.  A  full-grown  apple- 
tree  or  pear-tree  is  one  of  the  most  individual  and 
picturesque  of  trees.  The  foliage  is  good,  the  blos- 
soms as  handsome  as  those  of  fancy  imported  things, 
the  fruits  always  interesting,  and  the  tree  is  reli- 
able. Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  an  orange 
tree,  in  the  regions  where  it  grows,  with  its  shining 
and  evergreen  leaves  and  its  continuing  flowers  and 
fruits.  The  practice  of  planting  apples  and  pears 
and  sweet  cherries,  and  other  fruit  and  nut  trees, 
for  shade  and  adornment  is  much  to  be  commended 
in  certain  places. 

But  the  point  I  wish  specially  to  urge  in  this  con- 
nection is  the  value  of  many  kinds  of  fruit-trees  in 
real  landscape  work.  We  think  of  these  trees  as 
single  or  separate  specimens,  but  they  may  be  used 
with  good  result  in  mass  planting,  when  it  is  de- 
sired to  produce  a  given  effect  in  a  large  area  or 
in  one  division  of  a  property.  I  do  not  know  that 
any  one  has  worked  out  full  plans  for  the  combin- 
ing of  fruit-trees,  nuts,  and  berry-bearing  plants  into 
good  treatments,  but  it  is  much  to  be  desired  that 
this  shall  be  done.  Any  of  you  can  picture  a  sweep 
110 


The  Admiration  of  Good  Materials 

of  countryside  planted  to  these  things  that  would 
be  not  only  novel  and  striking,  but  at  the  same 
time  conformable  to  the  best  traditions  of  artistic 
rendering. 

I  think  it  should  be  a  fundamental  purpose  in 
our  educational  plans  to  acquaint  the  people  with 
the  common  resources  of  the  region,  and  particu- 
larly with  those  materials  on  which  we  subsist.  If 
this  is  accepted,  then  we  cannot  deprive  our  parks, 
highways,  and  school  grounds  of  the  trees  that  bear 
the  staple  fruits.  It  is  worth  while  to  have  an 
intellectual  interest  in  a  fruit-tree.  I  know  a  fruit- 
grower who  secures  many  prizes  for  his  apples  and 
his  pears;  when  he  secures  a  blue  ribbon,  he  ties 
it  on  the  tree  that  bore  the  fruit. 

The  admiration  of  a  good  domestic  animal  is 
much  to  be  desired.  It  develops  a  most  responsible 
attitude  in  the  man  or  the  woman.  I  have  observed 
a  peculiar  charm  in  the  breeders  of  these  wonderful 
animals,  a  certain  poise  and  masterfulness  and 
breadth  of  sympathy.  To  admire  a  good  horse 
and  to  know  just  why  he  admires  him  is  a  great  re- 
source to  any  man,  as  also  to  feel  the  responsibility 
for  the  care  and  health  of  any  flock  or  herd.  Fowls, 
pigs,  sheep  on  their  pastures,  cows,  mules,  all  per- 
fect of  their  kind,  all  sensitive,  all  of  them  marvel- 
lous in  their  forms  and  powers, — verily  these  are 
good  to  know. 

Ill 


The  Holy  Earth 

If  the  raw  materials  grow  out  of  the  holy  earth, 
then  a  man  should  have  pride  in  producing  them, 
and  also  in  handling  them.  As  a  man  thinketh  of 
his  materials,  so  doth  he  profit  in  the  use  of  them. 
He  builds  them  into  himself.  There  is  a  wide-spread 
feeling  that  in  some  way  these  materials  reflect 
themselves  in  a  man's  bearing.  One  type  of  man 
grows  out  of  the  handling  of  rocks,  another  out  of 
the  handling  of  fishes,  another  out  of  the  growing 
of  the  products  from  the  good  earth.  All  irrever- 
ence in  the  handling  of  these  materials  that  come 
out  of  the  earth's  bounty,  and  all  waste  and  poor 
workmanship,  make  for  a  low  spiritual  expression. 

The  farmer  specially  should  be  proud  of  his  ma- 
terials, he  is  so  close  to  the  sources  and  so  hard 
against  the  backgrounds.  Moreover,  he  cannot 
conceal  his  materials.  He  cannot  lock  up  his  farm 
or  disguise  his  crops.  He  lives  on  his  farm,  and 
visibly  with  his  products.  The  architect  does  not 
live  in  the  houses  and  temples  he  builds.  The  en- 
gineer does  not  live  on  his  bridge.  The  miner  does 
not  live  in  his  mine.  Even  the  sailor  has  his  home 
away  from  his  ship.  But  the  farmer  cannot  sep- 
arate himself  from  his  works.  Every  bushel  of 
buckwheat  and  every  barrel  of  apples  and  every 
bale  of  cotton  bears  his  name;  the  beef  that  he  takes 
to  market,  the  sheep  that  he  herds  on  his  pastures, 
the  horse  that  he  drives, — these  are  his  products 
112 


The  Admiration  of  Good  Materials 

and  they  carry  his  name.  He  should  have  the  same 
pride  in  these — his  productions — as  another  who 
builds  a  machine,  or  another  who  writes  a  book 
about  them.  The  admiration  of  a  field  of  hay,  of 
a  cow  producing  milk,  of  a  shapely  and  fragrant 
head  of  cabbage,  is  a  great  force  for  good. 

It  would  mean  much  if  we  could  celebrate  the  raw 
materials  and  the  products.  Particularly  is  it  good 
to  celebrate  the  yearly  bounty.  The  Puritans  rec- 
ognized their  immediate  dependence  on  the  products 
of  the  ground,  and  their  celebration  was  connected 
with  religion.  I  should  be  sorry  if  our  celebrations 
were  to  be  wholly  secular. 

We  have  been  much  given  to  the  display  of 
fabricated  materials, — of  the  products  of  looms, 
lathes,  foundries,  and  many  factories  of  skill.  We 
also  exhibit  the  agricultural  produce,  but  largely  in 
a  crass  and  rude  way  to  display  bulk  and  to  win 
prizes.  We  now  begin  to  arrange  our  exhibitions 
for  color  effect,  comparison,  and  educational  influ- 
ence. But  we  do  not  justly  understand  the  nat- 
ural products  when  we  confine  them  to  formal  ex- 
hibitions. They  must  be  incorporated  into  many 
celebrations,  expressing  therein  the  earth's  bounty 
and  our  appreciation  of  it.  The  usual  and  com- 
mon products,  domesticated  and  wild,  should  be 
gathered  in  these  occasions,  and  not  for  competi- 
tion or  for  prize  awards  or  even  for  display,  but 
113 


The  Holy  Earth 

for  their  intrinsic  qualities.  An  apple  day  or  an 
apple  sabbath  would  teach  the  people  to  express 
their  gratitude  for  apples.  The  moral  obligation 
to  grow  good  apples,  to  handle  them  honestly,  to 
treat  the  soil  and  the  trees  fairly  and  reverently, 
could  be  developed  as  a  living  practical  philosophy 
into  the  working-days  of  an  apple-growing  people. 
The  technical  knowledge  we  now  possess  requires 
the  moral  support  of  a  stimulated  public  apprecia- 
tion to  make  it  a  thoroughly  effective  force. 

Many  of  the  products  and  crops  lend  themselves 
well  to  this  kind  of  admiration,  and  all  of  them 
should  awaken  gratitude  and  reverence.  Sermons 
and  teaching  may  issue  from  them.  Nor  is  it  nec- 
essary that  this  gratitude  be  expressed  only  in  col- 
lected materials,  or  that  all  preaching  and  all  teach- 
ing shall  be  indoors.  The  best  understanding  of  our 
relations  to  the  earth  will  be  possible  when  we 
learn  how  to  apply  our  devotions  in  the  open  places. 


114 


The  keeping  of  the  beautiful  earth 

The  proper  care-taking  of  the  earth  lies  not  alone 
in  maintaining  its  fertility  or  in  safeguarding  its 
products.  The  lines  of  beauty  that  appeal  to  the 
eye  and  the  charm  that  satisfies  the  five  senses  are 
in  our  keeping. 

The  natural  landscape  is  always  interesting  and  it 
is  satisfying.  The  physical  universe  is  the  source  of 
art.  We  know  no  other  form  and  color  than  that 
which  we  see  in  nature  or  derive  from  it.  If  art  is 
true  to  its  theme,  it  is  one  expression  of  morals. 
If  it  is  a  moral  obligation  to  express  the  art-sense 
in  painting  and  sculpture  and  literature  and  inusic, 
so  is  it  an  equal  obligation  to  express  it  in  good 
landscape. 

Of  the  first  importance  is  it  that  the  race  keep 
its  artistic  backgrounds,  and  not  alone  for  the  few 
who  may  travel  far  and  near  and  who  may  pause 
deliberately,  but  also  for  those  more  numerous  folk 
who  must  remain  with  the  daily  toil  and  catch  the 
far  look  only  as  they  labor.  To  put  the  best  ex- 
pression of  any  landscape  into  the  consciousness  of 
one's  day's  work  is  more  to  be  desired  than  much 
riches.  When  we  complete  our  conquest,  there  will 
be  no  unseemly  landscapes. 
115 


The  Holy  Earth 

The  abundance  of  violated  landscapes  is  proof 
that  we  have  not  yet  mastered.  The  farmer  does 
not  have  full  command  of  his  situation  until  the 
landscape  is  a  part  of  his  farming.  Farms  may  be 
units  in  well-developed  and  pleasing  landscapes, 
beautiful  in  their  combinations  with  other  farms 
and  appropriate  to  their  setting  as  well  as  attrac- 
tive in  themselves. 

No  one  has  a  moral  right  to  contribute  unsightly 
factory  premises  or  a  forbidding  commercial  estab- 
lishment to  any  community.  The  lines  of  utility 
and  efficiency  ought  also  to  be  the  lines  of  beauty; 
and  it  is  due  every  worker  to  have  a  good  land- 
scape to  look  upon,  even  though  its  area  be  very 
constricted.  To  produce  bushels  of  wheat  and  mar- 
vels of  machinery,  to  maintain  devastating  mili- 
tary establishments,  do  not  comprise  the  sum  of  con- 
quest. The  backgrounds  must  be  kept. 

If  moral  strength  comes  from  good  and  sufficient 
scenery,  so  does  the  preservation  of  it  become  a 
social  duty.  It  is  much  more  than  a  civic  obliga- 
tion. But  the  resources  of  the  earth  must  be  avail- 
able to  man  for  his  use  and  this  necessarily  means 
a  modification  of  the  original  scenery.  Some  pieces 
and  kinds  of  scenery  are  above  all  economic  use  and 
should  be  kept  wholly  in  the  natural  state.  Much 
of  it  may  yield  to  modification  if  he  takes  good 
care  to  preserve  its  essential  features.  Unfortu- 
116 


The  Keeping  of  the  Beautiful  Earth 

nately,  the  engineer  seems  not  often  to  be  trained 
in  the  values  of  scenery  and  he  is  likely  to  despoil  a 
landscape  or  at  least  to  leave  it  raw  and  unfinished. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  is  unfortunately  a  feeling 
abroad  that  any  modification  of  a  striking  land- 
scape is  violation  and  despoliation;  and  unwar- 
ranted opposition,  in  some  cases  amounting  almost 
to  prudery,  follows  any  needful  work  of  utilization. 
Undoubtedly  the  farmer  and  builder  and  promoter 
have  been  too  unmindful  of  the  effect  of  their  in- 
terference on  scenery,  and  particularly  in  taking 
little  care  in  the  disposition  of  wastes  and  in  the 
healing  of  wounds;  but  a  work  either  of  farming 
or  of  construction  may  add  interest  and  even  lines 
of  beauty  to  a  landscape  and  endow  it  with  the  sug- 
gestion of  human  interest.  If  care  were  taken  in 
the  construction  of  public  and  semi-public  work  to 
reshape  the  banks  into  pleasing  lines,  to  clean  up, 
to  care  for,  to  plant,  to  erect  structures  of  good 
proportions  whether  they  cost  much  or  little,  and 
to  give  proper  regard  to  the  sensibilities  of  the 
communities,  most  of  the  present  agitation  against 
interference  with  natural  scenery  would  disappear. 
One  has  only  to  visit  the  factory  districts,  the  va- 
cation resorts,  the  tenement  areas,  the  banks  of 
streams  and  gorges,  to  look  at  the  faces  of  cliffs 
and  at  many  engineering  enterprises  and  at  num- 
berless farmyards,  to  find  examples  of  the  disregard 
117 


The  Holy  Earth 

of  men  for  the  materials  that  they  handle.  It  is  as 
much  our  obligation  to  hold  the  scenery  reverently 
as  to  handle  the  products  reverently.  Man  found 
the  earth  looking  well.  Humanity  began  in  a  garden. 
The  keeping  of  the  good  earth  depends  on  preser- 
vation rather  than  on  destruction.  The  office  of 
the  farmer  and  the  planter  is  to  produce  rather  than 
to  destroy;  whatever  they  destroy  is  to  the  end  that 
they  may  produce  more  abundantly;  these  persons 
are  therefore  natural  care-takers.  If  to  this  office 
we  add  the  habit  of  good  housekeeping,  we  shall 
have  more  than  one-third  of  our  population  at  once 
directly  partaking  in  keeping  the  earth.  It  is  one 
of  the  bitter  ironies  that  farmers  should  ever  have 
been  taken  out  of  their  place  to  wreak  vengeance 
on  the  earth  by  means  of  military  devastation.  In 
the  past,  this  ravage  has  been  small  in  amount  be- 
cause the  engines  of  destruction  were  weak,  but  with 
the  perfecting  of  the  modern  enginery  the  havoc  is 
awful  and  brutal.  While  we  have  to  our  credit  the 
improvement  of  agriculture  and  other  agencies  of 
conservation,  it  is  yet  a  fact  that  man  has  never 
been  so  destructive  as  now.  He  is  able  to  turn  the 
skill  of  his  discovery  to  destructive  ends  (a  subject 
that  we  have  already  approached  from  another 
point  of  view).  The  keeping  of  the  earth  is  there- 
fore involved  in  the  organization  of  society.  Mili- 
tary power  heads  toward  destructiveness.  Civil 
118 


The  Keeping  of  the  Beautiful  Earth 

power  heads  toward  conservation.  The  military 
power  may  be  constructive  in  times  of  peace,  but 
its  end,  if  it  uses  the  tools  it  invents,  is  devastation 
and  the  inflicting  of  injury.  When  the  civil  power 
is  subjugated  to  the  military  power,  society  is 
headed  toward  calamity. 

To  keep  and  to  waste  are  opposite  processes.  Xot 
only  are  we  able  to  despoil  the  earth  by  sheer  lust  of 
ravage  and  by  blighting  the  fields  with  caverns  of 
human  slaughter,  but  we  shoot  away  incredible 
supplies  of  copper  and  petroleum  and  other  unre- 
newable  materials  that  by  every  right  and  equity 
belong  to  our  successors;  and,  moreover,  we  are  to 
make  these  successors  pay  for  the  destruction  of 
their  heritage.  Day  by  day  we  are  mortgaging  the 
future,  depriving  it  of  supplies  that  it  may  need, 
burdening  the  shoulders  of  generations  yet  unborn. 

Merely  to  make  the  earth  productive  and  to  keep 
it  clean  and  to  bear  a  reverent  regard  for  its  prod- 
ucts, is  the  special  prerogative  of  a  good  agriculture 
and  a  good  citizenry  founded  thereon ;  this  may  seem 
at  the  moment  to  be  small  and  ineffective  as  against 
mad  impersonal  and  limitless  havoc,  but  it  carries 
the  final  healing;  and  while  the  land  worker  will  bear 
much  of  the  burden  on  his  back  he  will  also  redeem 
the  earth. 


119 


The  tones  of  industry 

One  of  the  clearest  notes  of  our  time  is  the  recog- 
nition of  the  holiness  of  industry  and  the  attempt 
to  formulate  the  morals  of  it.  We  accept  this  fact 
indirectly  by  the  modern  endeavor  to  give  the 
laboring  man  his  due. 

The  handworker  is  more  or  less  elemental,  deal- 
ing directly  with  the  materials.  We  begin  to  recog- 
nize these  industries  in  literature,  in  sculpture,  and 
in  painting;  but  we  do  not  yet  very  consciously  or 
effectively  translate  them  into  music. 

It  is  to  be  recognized,  of  course,  that  melody  is 
emotional  and  dynamic  not  imitative,  that  its  power 
lies  in  suggestion  rather  than  in  direct  representa- 
tion, and  that  its  language  is  general;  with  all  this 
I  have  nothing  to  do.  Meunier  has  done  much 
with  his  chisel  to  interpret  the  spirit  of  constructive 
labor  and  to  develop  its  higher  significance.  His 
art  is  indeed  concrete  and  static,  and  sculpture  and 
music  are  not  to  be  compared;  yet  it  raises  the 
question  whether  there  may  be  other  bold  exten- 
sions of  art. 

The  primitive  industries  must  have  been  mostly 
silent,  when  there  were  no  iron  tools,  when  fire 
120 


The  Tones  of  Industry 

felled  the  forest  tree  and  hollowed  the  canoe,  when 
the  parts  in  construction  were  secured  by  thongs, 
and  when  the  game  was  caught  in  silent  traps  or 
by  the  swift  noiseless  arrow  and  spear.  Even  at 
the  Stone  Age  the  rude  implements  and  the  ma- 
terials must  have  been  mostly  devoid  of  resonance. 
But  now  industry  has  become  universal  and  com- 
plex, and  it  has  also  become  noisy, — so  noisy  that 
we  organize  to  protect  ourselves  from  becoming 
distraught. 

And  yet  a  workshop,  particularly  if  it  works  hi 
metal,  is  replete  with  tones  that  are  essentially 
musical.  Workmen  respond  readily  to  unison. 
There  are  melodies  that  arise  from  certain  kinds 
of  labor.  Much  of  our  labor  is  rhythmic.  In  any 
factory  driven  by  power,  there  is  a  fundamental 
rhythm  and  motion,  tying  all  things  together.  I 
have  often  thought,  standing  at  the  threshold  of  a 
mill,  that  it  might  be  possible  somewhere  by  care- 
ful forethought  to  eliminate  the  clatter  and  so  to 
organize  the  work  as  to  develop  a  better  expression 
in  labor.  Very  much  do  we  need  to  make  industry 
vocal. 

It  is  worth  considering,  also,  whether  it  is  possible 
to  take  over  into  music  any  of  these  sounds  of  in- 
dustry in  a  new  way,  that  they  may  be  given  mean- 
ings they  do  not  now  possess. 

At  all  events,  the  poetic  element  in  industry  is 
121 


The  Holy  Earth 

capable  of  great  development  and  of  progressive  in- 
terpretation; and  poetry  is  scarcely  to  be  dis- 
sociated from  sound.  All  good  work  well  done  is 
essentially  poetic  to  the  sensitive  mind;  and  when 
the  work  is  the  rhythm  of  many  men  acting  in 
unison,  the  poetry  has  voice. 

The  striking  of  the  rivet 

The  purr  of  a  drill 

The  crash  of  a  steam-shovel 

The  plunge  of  a  dredge 

The  buzz  of  a  saw 

The  roll  of  belts  and  chains 

The  whirl  of  spindles 

The  hiss  of  steam 

The  tip-tap  of  valves 

The  undertone  rumble  of  a  mill 

The  silence  intent  of  men  at  work 

The  talk  of  men  going  to  their  homes, — 

These  are  all  the  notes  of  great  symphonies. 

Nor  should  I  stop  with  the  industries  of  com- 
merce and  manufacture.  There  are  many  possibil- 
ities in  the  sounds  and  voices  that  are  known  of 
fisherfolk  and  campers  and  foresters  and  farmers. 
Somehow  we  should  be  able  to  individualize  these 
voices  and  to  give  them  an  artistic  expression  in 
some  kind  of  human  composition.  There  are  rich 
suggestions  in  the  voices  of  the  farmyard,  the  calls 
of  wild  creatures,  the  tones  of  farm  implements  and 
machinery,  the  sounds  of  the  elements,  and  par- 
122 


ticularly  in  the  relations  of  all  these  to  the  pauses, 
the  silences,  and  the  distances  beyond. 

Whether  it  is  possible  to  utilize  any  of  these 
tones  and  voices  artistically  is  not  for  a  layman  to 
say;  but  the  layman  may  express  the  need  that  he 
feels. 


123 


The  threatened  literature 

A  fear  seems  to  be  abroad  that  the  inquisitive- 
ness  and  exactness  of  science  will  deprive  literature 
of  imagination  and  sympathy  and  will  destroy  ar- 
tistic expression;  and  it  is  said  that  we  are  in  dan- 
ger of  losing  the  devotional  element  in  literature. 
If  these  apprehensions  are  well  founded,  then  do 
we  have  cause  for  alarm,  seeing  that  literature  is  an 
immeasurable  resource. 

Great  literature  may  be  relatively  independent 
of  time  and  place,  and  this  is  beyond  discussion 
here;  but  if  the  standards  of  interpretative  litera- 
ture are  lowering  it  must  be  because  the  standards 
of  life  are  lowering,  for  the  attainment  and  the  out- 
look of  a  people  are  bound  to  be  displayed  in  its 
letters. 

Perhaps  our  difficulty  lies  in  a  change  in  methods 
and  standards  rather  than  in  essential  qualities. 
We  constantly  acquire  new  material  for  literary  use. 
The  riches  of  life  are  vaster  arid  deeper  than  ever 
before.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  the  new 
experience  of  the  planet  did  not  express  itself  in 
new  literary  form. 

We  are  led  astray  by  the  fatal  habit  of  making 
comparisons,  contrasting  one  epoch  with  another. 
124 


The  Threatened  Literature 

There  may  be  inflexible  souls  among  the  investiga- 
tors who  see  little  or  nothing  beyond  the  set  of 
facts  in  a  little  field,  but  surely  the  greater  number 
of  scientific  men  are  persons  of  keen  imagination 
and  of  broad  interest  in  all  conquests.  Indeed,  a 
lively  imagination  is  indispensable  in  persons  of  the 
best  attainments  in  science;  it  is  necessary  only 
that  the  imagination  be  regulated  and  trained. 
Never  has  it  been  so  true  that  fact  is  stranger  than 
fiction.  Never  have  the  flights  of  the  poets  been 
so  evenly  matched  by  the  flights  of  science.  All 
great  engineers,  chemists,  physiologists,  physicists 
work  in  the  realm  of  imagination,  of  imagination 
that  projects  the  unknown  from  the  known.  Al- 
most do  we  think  that  the  Roentgen  ray,  the  wire- 
less telegraphy,  the  analysis  of  the  light  of  the  stars, 
the  serum  control  of  disease  are  the  product  of 
what  we  might  call  pure  fancy.  The  very  utilities 
and  conquests  of  modern  society  are  the  results  of 
better  imagination  than  the  world  has  yet  known. 
If  it  is  true  that  the  desire  to  measure  and  to  analyze 
is  now  an  established  trait,  equally  is  it  true  that  it 
directs  the  mind  into  far  and  untried  reaches;  and 
if  we  have  not  yet  found  this  range  of  inspiration 
in  what  is  called  artistic  literature,  it  must  be  be- 
cause literary  criticism  has  not  accepted  the  im- 
agery of  the  modern  world  and  is  still  looking  for 
its  art  to  the  models  of  the  past. 
125 


The  Holy  Earth 

The  models  of  the  past  are  properly  the  stand- 
ards for  the  performances  of  their  time,  but  this 
does  not  constitute  them  the  standards  of  all  time 
or  of  the  present  time.  Perhaps  the  writing  of  lan- 
guage for  the  sake  of  writing  it  is  losing  its  hold; 
but  a  newr,  clear,  and  forceful  literature  appears. 
This  new  literature  has  its  own  criteria.  It  would 
be  violence  to  judge  it  only  by  standards  of  criti- 
cism founded  on  Elizabethan  writings.  We  do  not 
descend  into  crude  materialism  because  we  describe 
the  materials  of  the  cosmos;  we  do  not  eliminate 
imagination  because  we  desire  that  it  shall  have 
meaning;  we  do  not  strip  literature  of  artistic  qual- 
ity because  it  is  true  to  the  facts  and  the  outlook 
of  our  own  time. 

It  may  be  admitted  that  present  literature  is  in- 
adequate, and  that  wre  are  still  obliged  to  go  to  the 
former  compositions  for  our  highest  artistic  expres- 
sions. Very  good.  Let  us  hope  that  we  shall  never 
cease  to  want  these  older  literatures.  Let  us  hope 
that  we  shall  never  be  severed  from  our  past.  But 
perhaps  the  good  judge  in  a  coming  generation,  when 
the  slow  process  of  elimination  has  perfected  its 
criticism,  will  discover  something  very  noble  and 
even  very  artistic  in  the  abundant  writing  of  our 
day.  Certainly  he  will  note  the  recovery  from  the 
first  excess  of  reaction  against  the  older  orders,  and 
he  will  be  aware  that  at  this  epoch  man  began  anew 
126 


The  Threatened  Literature 

to  express  his  social  sense  in  a  large  way,  as  a  result 
of  all  his  painstaking  studies  in  science.  Even  if  he 
should  not  discover  the  highest  forms  of  literary 
expression,  he  might  find  that  here  was  the  large 
promise  of  a  new  order.  Possibly  he  would  dis- 
cover major  compositions  of  the  excellence  of  which 
we  ourselves  are  not  aware. 

It  is  less  than  forty  years  since  Darwin  and  less 
than  fifty  years  since  Agassiz.  It  is  only  twenty 
years  since  Pasteur.  It  is  only  a  century  and  a 
quarter  since  Franklin,  fifty  years  since  Faraday, 
less  than  twenty-five  since  Tyndall.  It  is  sixty 
years  since  Humboldt  glorified  the  earth  with  the 
range  of  his  imagination.  It  is  not  so  very  far  even 
if  we  go  back  to  Newton  and  to  Kepler.  Within 
the  span  of  a  century  we  count  name  after  name  of 
prophets  who  have  set  us  on  a  new  course.  So  com- 
plete has  been  the  revolution  that  we  lost  our  old 
bearings  before  we  had  found  the  new.  We  have 
not  yet  worked  out  the  new  relationships,  nor  put 
into  practice  their  moral  obligations,  nor  have  we 
grasped  the  fulness  of  our  privileges.  We  have  not 
yet  made  the  new  knowledge  consciously  into  a 
philosophy  of  life  or  incorporated  it  completely  into 
working  attitudes  of  social  equity.  Therefore,  not 
even  now  are  we  ripe  for  the  new  literature. 

We  have  gone  far  enough,  however,  to  know  that 
science  is  not  unsympathetic  and  that  it  is  not  con- 
127 


The  Holy  Earth 

temptuous  of  the  unknown.  By  lens  and  prism  and 
balance  and  line  we  measure  minutely  whatever  we 
can  sense;  then  with  bared  heads  we  look  out  to 
the  great  unknown  and  we  cast  our  lines  beyond 
the  stars.  There  are  no  realms  beyond  which  the 
prophecy  of  science  would  not  go.  It  resolves  the 
atom  and  it  weighs  the  planets. 

Among  the  science  men  I  have  found  as  many 
poetic  souls  as  among  the  literary  men,  although 
they  may  not  know  so  much  poetry,  and  they  are 
not  equally  trained  in  literary  expression;  being 
free  of  the  restraint  of  conventional  criticism,  they 
are  likely  to  have  a  peculiarly  keen  and  sympathetic 
projection.  Close  dissection  long  continued  may 
not  lead  to  free  artistic  literary  expression;  this  is 
as  true  of  literary  anatomy  as  of  biological  anatomy : 
but  this  does  not  destroy  the  freedom  of  other  souls, 
and  it  may  afford  good  material  for  the  artist. 

Two  kinds  of  popular  writing  are  confused  in  the 
public  mind,  for  there  are  two  classes  that  express 
the  findings  of  scientific  inquiry.  The  prevailing 
product  is  that  which  issues  from  establishments  and 
institutions.  This  is  supervised,  edited,  and  made  to 
conform;  it  is  the  product  of  our  perfected  organ- 
izations and  has  all  the  hardness  of  its  origin.  The 
other  literature  is  of  a  different  breed.  It  is  the 
expression  of  personality.  The  one  is  a  useful  and 
necessary  public  literature  of  record  and  advice;  the 
128 


The  Threatened  Literature 

other  is  a  literature  of  outlook  and  inspiration.  The 
latter  is  not  to  be  expec'ted  from  the  institutions, 
for  it  is  naturally  the  literature  of  freedom. 

My  reader  now  knows  my  line  of  approach  to 
the  charge  that  literature  is  in  danger  of  losing  its 
element  of  devotion,  and  hereby  lies  the  main  reason 
for  introducing  this  discussion  into  my  little  book. 
We  may  be  losing  the  old  literary  piety  and  the 
technical  theology,  because  we  are  losing  the  old 
theocratic  outlook  on  creation.  We  also  know  that 
the  final  control  of  human  welfare  will  not  be  gov- 
ernmental or  military,  and  we  shall  some  day  learn 
that  it  will  not  be  economic  as  we  now  prevailingly 
use  the  wordp  We  have  long  since  forgotten  that 
once  it  was  patriarchal.  We  shall  know  the  creator 
in  the  creation.  We  shall  derive  more  of  our  solaces 
from  the  creation  and  in  the  consciousness  of  our 
right  relations  to  it.  We  shall  be  more  fully  aware 
that  righteousness  inheres  in  honest  occupation. 
We  shall  find  some  bold  and  free  way  in  which'  the 
human  spirit  may  express  itself. 


129 


The  separate  soul 

Many  times  in  this  journey  have  we  come  against 
the  importance  of  the  individual.  We  are  to  de- 
velop the  man's  social  feeling  at  the  same  time 
that  we  allow  him  to  remain  separate.  We  are  to 
accomplish  certain  social  results  otherwise  than  by 
the  process  of  thronging,  which  is  so  much  a  part 
of  the  philosophy  of  this  anxious  epoch;  and  there- 
fore we  may  pursue  the  subject  still  a  little  further. 

Any  close  and  worth-while  contact  with  the  earth 
tends  to  make  one  original  or  at  least  detached  in 
one's  judgments  and  independent  of  group  control. 
In  proportion  as  society  becomes  organized  and  in- 
volved, do  we  need  the  separate  spirit  and  persons 
who  are  responsible  beings  on  their  own  account. 
The  independent  judgment  should  be  much  furthered 
by  studies  in  the  sciences  that  are  founded  on  obser- 
vation of  native  forms  and  conditions.  And  yet  the 
gains  of  scientific  study  become  so  rigidly  organized 
into  great  enterprises  that  the  individual  is  likely 
to  be  lost  in  them. 

As  an  example  of  what  I  mean,  I  mention  John 
Muir,  who  has  recently  passed  away,  and  who  stood 
for  a  definite  contribution  to  his  generation.  He 
130 


The  Separate  Soul 

could  hardly  have  made  this  contribution  if  he  had 
been  attached  to  any  of  the  great  institutions  or 
organizations  or  to  big  business.  He  has  left  a 
personal  impression  and  a  remarkable  literature 
that  has  been  very  little  influenced  by  group  psy- 
chology. He  is  the  interpreter  of  mountains,  for- 
ests, and  glaciers. 

There  is  one  method  of  aggregation  and  social 
intercourse.  There  is  another  method  of  isolation 
and  separateness.  /JXever  in  the  open  country  do  I 
see  a  young  man  or  woman  at  nightfall  going  down 
the  highways  and  the  long  fields  but  I  think  of  the 
character  that  develops  out  of  the  loneliness,  in 
the  silence  of  vast  surroundings,  projected  against 
the  backgrounds,  and  of  the  suggestions  that  must 
come  from  these  situations  as  contrasted  with  those 
that  arise  from  the  babble  of  the  crowds.  There  is 
hardiness  in  such  training;  there  is  independence, 
the  taking  of  one's  own  risk  and  no  need  of  the  pro- 
tection of  compensation-acts.  There  is  no  over- 
imposed  director  to  fall  back  on.  Physical  recu- 
peration is  in  the  situation.  As  against  these  fields, 
much  of  the  habitual  golf  and  tennis  and  other  ad- 
ventitious means  of  killing  time  and  of  making  up 
deficiencies  is  almost  ludicrous. 

Many  of  our  reformers  fail  because  they  express 
only  a  group  psychology  and  do  not  have  a  living 
personal  interpretation.  Undoubtedly  many  per- 

131 


The  Holy  Earth 

sons  who  might  have  had  a  message  of  their  own 
have  lost  it  and  have  also  lost  the  opportunity  to 
express  it  by  belonging  to  too  many  clubs  and  by  too 
continuous  association  with  so-called  kindred  spirits, 
or  by  taking  too  much  post-graduate  study.  It  is  a 
great  temptation  to  join  many  clubs,  but  if  one  feels 
any  stir  of  originality  in  himself,  he  should  be  cau- 
tious how  he  joins. 

I  may  also  recall  the  great  example  of  Agassiz  at 
Penikese.  In  his  last  year,  broken  in  health,  feeling 
the  message  he  still  had  for  the  people,  he  opened 
the  school  on  the  little  island  off  the  coast  of  Massa- 
chusetts. It  was  a  short  school  in  one  summer  only, 
yet  it  has  made  an  indelible  impression  on  American 
education.  It  stimulates  one  to  know  that  the  per- 
son wrho  met  the  incoming  students  on  the  wharf  was 
Agassiz  himself,  not  an  assistant  or  an  instructor. 
Out  of  the  great  number  of  applicants,  he  chose  fifty 
whom  he  would  teach.  He  wanted  to  send  forth 
these  chosen  persons  with  his  message,  apostles  to 
carry  the  methods  and  the  way  of  approach.  (When 
are  we  to  have  the  Penikese  for  the  rural  back- 
grounds ?) 

Sometime  there  will  be  many  great  unattached 
teachers,  who  will  choose  their  own  pupils  because 
they  want  them  and  not  merely  because  the  appli- 
cants have  satisfied  certain  arbitrary  tests.  The 
students  may  be  graduates  of  colleges  or  they  may 


The  Separate  Soul 

be  others.  They  will  pursue  their  work  not  for 
credit  or  for  any  other  reward.  We  shall  yet  come 
back  to  the  masters,  and  there  will  be  teaching  in 
the  market-places. 

We  are  now  in  the  epoch  of  great  organization 
not  only  in  industrial  developments  but  also  in  ed- 
ucational and  social  enterprises,  in  religious  work, 
and  in  governmental  activities.  So  completely  is 
the  organization  proceeding  in  every  direction,  and 
so  good  is  it,  that  one  habitually  and  properly  de- 
sires to  identify  oneself  with  some  form  of  associ- 
ated work.  Almost  in  spite  of  oneself,  one  is  caught 
up  into  the  plan  of  things,  and  becomes  part  of  a 
social,  economic,  or  educational  mechanism.  Xo 
longer  do  we  seek  our  educational  institutions  so 
much  for  the  purpose  of  attaching  ourselves  to  a 
master  as  to  pursue  a  course  of  study.  No  more 
do  we  sit  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel. 

In  government,  the  organization  has  recently 
taken  the  form  of  mechanism  for  efficiency.  We 
want  government  and  all  kinds  of  organization  to 
be  efficient  and  effective,  but  administrative  effi- 
ciency may  easily  proceed  at  the  expense  of  person- 
ality. Much  of  our  public  organization  for  effi- 
ciency is  essentially  monarchic  in  its  tendency.  It 
is  likely  to  eliminate  the  most  precious  resource  in 
human  society,  which  is  the  freedom  of  expression 
of  the  competent  individual.  We  are  piling  organ- 

133 


The  Holy  Earth 

ization  on  organization,  one  supervising  and  watch- 
ing and  "investigating"  the  other.  The  greater  the 
number  of  the  commissions,  investigating  commit- 
tees, and  the  interlocking  groups,  the  more  complex 
does  the  whole  process  become  and  the  more  diffi- 
cult is  it  for  the  person  to  find  himself.  We  can 
never  successfully  substitute  bookkeeping  for  men 
and  women.  We  are  more  in  need  of  personality 
than  of  administrative  regularity. 

This  is  not  a  doctrine  of  laisser-faire  or  let-alone. 
The  very  conditions  of  modern  society  demand 
strong  control  and  regulation  and  vigorous  organ- 
ization; but  the  danger  is  that  we  apply  the  con- 
trols uniformly  and  everywhere  and  eliminate  the 
free  action  of  the  individual,  as  if  control  were  in 
itself  a  merit. 

In  some  way  we  must  protect  the  person  from 
being  submerged  in  the  system.  We  need  always  to 
get  back  of  the  group  to  the  individual.  The  per- 
son is  the  reason  for  the  group,  although  he  is  re- 
sponsible to  the  group. 

It  is  probably  a  great  advantage  to  our  democ- 
racy that  our  educational  institutions  are  so  com- 
pletely organized,  for  by  that  means  we  are  able  to 
educate  many  more  persons  and  to  prepare  them 
for  the  world  with  a  clear  and  direct  purpose  in  life. 
But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  public  educational 
process.  Some  of  the  most  useful  persons  cannot 
134 


The  Separate  Soul 

express  themselves  in  institutions.  This  is  not  the 
fault  of  the  institutions.  In  the  nature  of  their 
character,  these  persons  are  separate.  For  the  most 
part,  they  do  not  now  have  adequate  means  of  self- 
expression  or  of  contributing  themselves  to  the  pub- 
lic welfare. 

When  we  shall  have  completed  the  present  neces- 
sity of  consolidation,  centralization,  and  organiza- 
tion, society  will  begin  to  be  conscious  of  the  sepa- 
rate souls,  who  in  the  nature  of  the  case  must  stand 
by  themselves,  and  it  will  make  use  of  them  for  the 
public  good.  Society  will  endow  persons,  not  on  a 
basis  of  salary,  and  enable  them  thereby  to  teach  in 
their  own  way  and  their  own  time.  This  will  rep- 
resent one  of  the  highest  types  of  endowment  by 
government  and  society. 

We  begin  to  approach  this  time  by  the  support, 
through  semi-public  agencies,  of  persons  to  accom- 
plish certain  results  or  to  undertake  special  pieces 
of  work,  particularly  of  research;  but  we  have  not 
yet  attained  the  higher  aim  of  endowing  individuals 
to  express  themselves  personally.  There  are  liber- 
ated personalities,  rare  and  prophetic,  who  are  con- 
sumed only  in  making  a  living  but  who  should  be 
given  unreservedly  to  the  people:  the  people  are 
much  in  need. 

Never  have  we  needed  the  separate  soul  so  much 
as  now. 

135 


The  element  of  separateness  in  society 

If  it  is  so  important  that  we  have  these  separate 
souls,  then  must  we  inquire  where  they  may  be 
found  and  particularly  how  we  may  insure  the  req- 
uisite supply.  Isolated  separates  appear  here  and 
there,  in  all  the  ranges  of  human  experiences;  these 
cannot  be  provided  or  foretold;  but  we  shall  need, 
in  days  to  come,  a  group  or  a  large  class  of  persons, 
who  in  the  nature  of  their  occupation,  situation, 
and  training  are  relatively  independent  and  free. 
We  need  more  than  a  limited  number  of  strong  out- 
standing figures  who  rise  to  personal  leadership. 
We  must  have  a  body  of  unattached  laborers  and 
producers  who  are  in  sufficient  numbers  to  influence 
unexpressed  public  opinion  and  who  will  form  a 
natural  corrective  as  against  organization-men, 
habitual  reformers,  and  extremists. 

It  is  apparent  that  such  a  class  must  own  pro- 
ductive property,  be  able  to  secure  support  by  work- 
ing for  themselves,  and  produce  supplies  that  are 
indispensable  to  society.  Their  individual  inter- 
ests must  be  greater  and  more  insistent  than  their 
associative  interests.  They  should  be  in  direct  con- 
tact with  native  resources.  This  characterization 
136 


The  Element  of  Separateness  in  Society 

describes  the  farmer,  and  no  other  large  or  impor- 
tant group. 

We  have  considered,  on  a  former  page,  that  we 
are  not  to  look  for  the  self-acting  individuals  among 
the  workingmen  as  a  class.  They  are  rapidly  par- 
taking in  an  opposite  development.  They  are 
controlled  by  associative  interests.  Even  under  a 
profit-sharing  system  they  are  parts  in  a  close 
concert. 

How  to  strike  the  balance  between  the  needful 
individualism  and  social  crystallization  is  probably 
the  most  difficult  question  before  society.  Of  the 
great  underlying  classes  of  occupations,  farming  is 
the  only  one  that  presents  the  individualistic  side 
very  strongly.  If  individualism  is  to  be  preserved 
anywhere,  it  must  be  preserved  here.  The  tendency 
of  our  present-day  discussion  is  to  organize  the 
farmers  as  other  groups  or  masses  are  organized. 
We  are  in  danger  here.  Assuredly,  the  farmer  needs 
better  resources  in  association,  but  it  is  a  nice 
question  how  far  we  should  go  and  how  completely 
we  should  try  to  redirect  him.  Fortunately,  the 
holding  of  title  to  land  and  the  separateness  of 
farm  habitations  prevent  solidification.  If,  on  this 
individualism  and  without  destroying  it,  we  can  de- 
velop a  co-acting  and  co-operating  activity,  we  shall 
undoubtedly  be  on  the  line  of  safety  as  well  as  on 
the  line  of  promise.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  organize 
137 


The  Holy  Earth 

the  farming  people  merely  to  secure  them  their 
"rights."  We  ought  soon  to  pass  this  epoch  in 
civilization.  There  are  no  "  rights  "  exclusive  to  any 
class.  "Rights"  are  not  possessions. 

I  do  not  know  where  the  element  of  separateness 
in  society  is  to  be  derived  unless  it  comes  out  of 
the  earth. 

Given  sufficient  organization  to  enable  the  farmer 
to  express  himself  fully  in  his  occupation  and  to 
secure  protection,  then  we  may  well  let  the  matter 
rest  until  his  place  in  society  develops  by  the  opera- 
tion of  natural  forces.  We  cannot  allow  the  fun- 
damental supplies  from  the  common  earth  to  be 
controlled  by  arbitrary  class  regulation.  It  would 
be  a  misfortune  if  the  farmer  were  to  isolate  himself 
by  making  "demands"  on  society.  I  hope  that  the 
farmer's  obligation  may  be  so  sensitively  developed 
in  him  as  to  produce  a  better  kind  of  mass-cohesion 
than  we  have  yet  known. 


138 


The  democratic  basis  in  agriculture 

All  these  positions  are  capable  of  direct  appli- 
cation in  the  incorporation  of  agriculture  into  a 
scheme  of  democracy.  A  brief  treatment  of  this 
subject  I  had  developed  for  the  present  book;  and 
this  treatment,  with  applications  to  particular  situ- 
ations now  confronting  us,  I  used  recently  in  the 
vice-presidential  address  before  the  new  Section  M 
of  the  American  Association  for  the  Advancement 
of  Science  (published  in  Science,  February  26,  1915, 
where  the  remainder  of  it  may  be  found).  Some  of 
the  general  points  of  view,  modified  from  that  ad- 
dress, may  be  brought  together  here.  The  desirabil- 
ity of  keeping  a  free  and  unattached  attitude  in  the 
people  on  the  land  may  be  expounded  in  many  di- 
rections, but  for  my  purpose  I  will  confine  the  illus- 
trations to  organization  in  the  field  of  education. 

The  agricultural  situation  is  now  much  in  the 
public  mind.  It  is  widely  discussed  in  the  press, 
which  shows  that  it  has  news  value.  Much  of  this 
value  is  merely  of  superficial  and  temporary  inter- 
est. Much  of  it  represents  a  desire  to  try  new  rem- 
edies for  old  ills.  Many  of  these  remedies  will  not 
work.  We  must  Ue  prepared  for  some  loss  of  pub- 
139 


The  Holy  Earth 

lie  interest  in  them  as  time  goes  on.  We  are  now 
in  a  publicity  stage  of  our  rural  development.  It 
would  seem  that  the  news-gathering  and  some  other 
agencies  discover  these  movements  after  the  work 
of  many  constructive  spirits  has  set  them  going  and 
has  laid  real  foundations;  and  not  these  founda- 
tions, but  only  detached  items  of  passing  interest, 
may  be  known  of  any  large  part  of  the  public.  I 
hope  that  we  shall  not  be  disturbed  by  this  circum- 
stance nor  let  it  interfere  with  good  work  or  with 
fundamental  considerations,  however  much  we  may 
deplore  the  false  expectations  that  may  result. 

We  are  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  For  years 
without  number — for  years  that  run  into  the  cen- 
turies when  men  have  slaughtered  each  other  on 
many  fields,  thinking  that  they  were  on  the  fields 
of  honor,  when  many  awful  despotisms  have  ground 
men  into  the  dust,  the  despotisms  thinking  them- 
selves divine — for  all  these  years  there  have  been 
men  on  the  land  wishing  to  see  the  light,  trying  to 
make  mankind  hear,  hoping  but  never  realizing. 
They  have  been  the  pawns  on  the  great  battlefields, 
men  taken  out  of  the  peasantries  to  be  hurled  against 
other  men  they  did  not  know  and  for  no  rewards 
except  further  enslavement.  They  may  even  have 
been  developed  to  a  high  degree  of  manual  or  tech- 
nical skill  that  they  might  the  better  support  gov- 
ernments to  make  conquests.  They  have  been  on 
140 


The  Democratic  Basis  in  Agriculture 

the  bottom,  upholding  the  whole  superstructure  and 
pressed  into  the  earth  by  the  weight  of  it.  When 
the  final  history  is  written,  the  lot  of  the  man  on 
the  land  will  be  the  saddest  chapter. 

But  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the  man  at  the 
bottom  began  really  to  be  recognized  politically. 
This  recognition  is  of  two  kinds, — the  use  that  a  gov- 
ernment can  make  in  its  own  interest  of  a  highly 
efficient  husbandry,  and  the  desire  to  give  the  hus- 
bandman full  opportunity  and  full  justice.  I  hope 
that  in  these  times  the  latter  motive  always  pre- 
vails. It  is  the  only  course  of  safety. 

Great  public-service  institutions  have  now  been 
founded  in  the  rural  movement.  The  United  States 
Department  of  Agriculture  has  grown  to  be  one  of 
the  notable  governmental  establishments  of  the 
world,  extending  itself  to  a  multitude  of  interests 
and  operating  with  remarkable  effectiveness.  The 
chain  of  colleges  of  agriculture  and  experiment  sta- 
tions, generously  co-operative  between  nation  and 
State,  is  unlike  any  other  development  anywhere, 
meaning  more,  I  think,  for  the  future  welfare  and 
peace  of  the  people  than  any  one  of  us  yet  foresees. 
There  is  the  finest  fraternalism,  and  yet  without 
clannishness,  between  these  great  agencies,  setting 
a  good  example  in  public  service.  And  to  these 
agencies  we  are  to  add  the  State  departments  of 
agriculture,  the  work  of  private  endowments  al- 
141 


The  Holy  Earth 

though  yet  in  its  infancy,  the  growing  and  very 
desirable  contact  with  the  rural  field  of  many  in- 
stitutions of  learning.  All  these  agencies  comprise 
a  distinctly  modern  phase  of  public  activity. 

A  new  agency  has  been  created  in  the  agricul- 
tural extension  act  which  was  signed  by  President 
Wilson  on  the  8th  of  May  in  1914.  The  farmer  is  to 
find  help  at  his  own  door.  A  new  instrumentality  in 
the  world  has  now  received  the  sanction  of  a  whole 
people  and  we  are  just  beginning  to  organize  it.  The 
organization  must  be  extensive,  and  it  ought  also  to 
be  liberal.  No  such  national  plan  on  such  a  scale 
has  ever  been  attempted;  and  it  almost  staggers 
one  when  one  even  partly  comprehends  the  tremen- 
dous consequences  that  in  all  likelihood  will  come 
of  it.  The  significance  of  it  is  not  yet  grasped  by 
the  great  body  of  the  people. 

Now,  the  problem  is  to  relate  all  this  public  work 
to  the  development  of  a  democracy.  I  am  not 
thinking  so  much  of  the  development  of  a  form  of 
government  as  of  a  real  democratic  expression  on 
the  part  of  the  people.  Agriculture  is  our  basic 
industry.  As  we  organize  its  affairs,  so  to  a  great 
degree  shall  we  secure  the  results  in  society  in  gen- 
eral. It  is  very  important  in  our  great  experiment 
in  democracy  that  we  do  not  lose  sight  of  the  first 
principle  in  democracy,  which  is  to  let  the  control 
of  policies  and  affairs  rest  directly  back  on  the 
people. 

142 


The  Democratic  Basis  in  Agriculture 

We  have  developed  the  institutions  on  public 
funds  to  train  the  farmer  and  to  give  him  voice. 
These  institutions  are  of  vast  importance  in  the 
founding  of  a  people.  The  folk  are  to  be  developed 
in  themselves  rather  than  by  class  legislation,  or  by 
favor  of  government,  or  by  any  attitude  of  benevo- 
lence from  without. 

Whether  there  is  any  danger  in  the  organization 
of  our  new  nationalized  extension  work,  and  the 
other  public  rural  agencies,  I  suppose  not  one  of  us 
knows.  But  for  myself,  I  have  apprehension  of  the 
tendency  to  make  some  of  the  agricultural  work  into 
"projects"  at  Washington  and  elsewhere.  If  we  are 
not  careful,  we  shall  not  only  too  much  centralize 
the  work,  but  we  shall  tie  it  up  in  perplexing  red- 
tape,  official  obstacles,  and  bookkeeping.  The  merit 
of  the  projects  themselves  and  the  intentions  of  the 
officers  concerned  in  them  are  not  involved  in  what 
I  say;  I  speak  only  of  the  tendency  of  all  govern- 
ment to  formality  and  to  crystallization,  to  machine 
work  and  to  armchair  regulations;  and  even  at  the 
risk  of  a  somewhat  lower  so-called  "efficiency,"  I 
should  prefer  for  such  work  as  investigating  and 
teaching  in  agriculture,  a  dispersion  of  the  initia- 
tive and  responsibility,  letting  the  co-ordination  and 
standardizing  arise  very  much  from  conference  and 
very  little  from  arbitrary  regulation. 

The  best   project  anywhere   is  a   good   man  or 
woman  working  in  a  program,  but  unhampered. 
143 


The  Holy  Earth 

If  it  is  important  that  the  administration  of  agri- 
cultural work  be  not  overmuch  centralized  at  Wash- 
ington, it  is  equally  true  that  it  should  not  be  too 
much  centralized  in  the  States.  I  hear  that  persons 
who  object  strongly  to  federal  concentration  ma}' 
nevertheless  decline  to  give  the  counties  and  the 
communities  in  their  own  States  the  benefit  of  any 
useful  starting-power  and  autonomy.  In  fact,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  here  at  present  lies  one  of  our 
greatest  dangers. 

A  strong  centralization  within  the  State  may  be 
the  most  hurtful  kind  of  concentration,  for  it  may 
more  vitally  affect  the  people  at  home.  Here  the 
question,  remember,  is  not  the  most  efficient  formal 
administration,  but  the  best  results  for  the  people. 
The  farm-bureau  work,  for  example,  can  never  pro- 
duce the  background  results  of  which  it  is  capable 
if  it  is  a  strongly  intrenched  movement  pushed  out 
from  one  centre,  as  from  the  college  of  agriculture 
or  other  institution.  The  college  may  be  the  guid- 
ing force,  but  it  should  not  remove  responsibility 
from  the  people  of  the  localities,  or  offer  them  a 
kind  of  co-operation  that  is  only  the  privilege  of 
partaking  in  the  college  enterprises.  I  fear  that 
some  of  our  so-called  co-operation  in  public  work 
of  many  kinds  is  little  more  than  to  allow  the  co- 
operator  to  approve  what  the  official  administration 
has  done. 

144 


The  Democratic  Basis  in  Agriculture 

In  the  course  of  our  experience  in  democracy,  we 
have  developed  many  checks  against  too  great  cen- 
tralization. I  hope  that  we  may  develop  the  checks 
effectively  in  this  new  welfare  work  in  agriculture, 
a  desire  that  I  am  aware  is  also  strong  with  many 
of  those  who  are  concerned  in  the  planning  of  it. 

Some  enterprises  may  be  much  centralized, 
whether  in  a  democracy  or  elsewhere;  an  example 
is  the  postal  service:  this  is  on  the  business  side  of 
government.  Some  enterprises  should  be  decen- 
tralized; an  example  is  a  good  part  of  the  agricul- 
tural service:  this  is  on  the  educational  side  of 
government.  It  is  the  tendency  to  reduce  all  pub- 
lic work  to  uniformity;  yet  there  is  no  virtue  in 
uniformity.  Its  only  value  is  as  a  means  to  an 
end. 

Thus  far,  the  rural  movement  has  been  whole- 
somely democratic.  It  has  been  my  privilege  for 
one-third  of  a  century  to  have  known  rather  closely 
many  of  the  men  and  women  who  have  been  in- 
strumental in  bringing  the  rural  problem  to  its  pres- 
ent stage  of  advancement.  They  have  been  public- 
minded,  able,  far-seeing  men  and  women,  and  they 
have  rendered  an  unmeasurable  service.  The  rural 
movement  has  been  brought  to  its  present  state 
without  any  demand  for  special  privilege,  without 
bolstering  by  factitious  legislation,  and  to  a  remark- 
able degree  without  self-seeking.  It  is  based  on  a 
145 


The  Holy  Earth 

real  regard  for  the  welfare  of  all  the  people,  rather 
than  for  rural  people  exclusively. 

Thrice  or  more  in  this  book  I  have  spoken  as  if 
not  convinced  that  the  present  insistence  on  "effi- 
ciency" in  government  is  altogether  sound.  That 
is  exactly  the  impression  I  desire  to  convey.  As 
the  term  is  now  commonly  applied,  it  is  not  a  mea- 
sure of  good  government. 

Certain  phrases  and  certain  sets  of  ideas  gain 
dominance  at  certain  times.  Just  now  the  idea  of 
administrative  efficiency  is  uppermost.  It  seems 
necessarily  to  be  the  controlling  factor  in  the  prog- 
ress of  any  business  or  any  people.  Certainly,  a 
people  should  be  efficient;  but  an  efficient  govern- 
ment may  not  mean  an  efficient  people, — it  may 
mean  quite  otherwise  or  even  the  reverse.  The 
primary  purpose  of  government  in  these  days,  and 
particularly  in  this  country,  is  to  educate  and  to 
develop  all  the  people  and  to  lead  them  to  express 
themselves  freely  and  to  the  full,  and  to  partake 
politically.  And  this  is  what  governments  may  not 
do,  and  this  is  where  they  may  fail  even  when  their 
efficiency  in  administration  is  exact.  A  monarchic 
form  may  be  executively  more  efficient  than  a  demo- 
cratic form;  a  despotic  form  may  be  more  efficient 
than  either.  The  justification  of  a  democratic  form 
of  government  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  means  of 
education. 

146 


The  Democratic  Basis  in  Agriculture 

The  final  test  of  government  is  not  executive  ef- 
ficiency. Every  movement,  every  circumstance  that 
takes  starting-power  and  incentive  away  from  the 
people,  even  though  it  makes  for  exacter  admin- 
istration, is  to  be  challenged.  It  is  specially  to  be 
deplored  if  this  loss  of  starting-power  affects  the 
persons  who  deal  first-hand  with  the  surface  of  the 
planet  and  with  the  products  that  come  directly 
out  of  it. 

There  is  a  broad  political  significance  to  all  this. 
Sooner  or  later  the  people  rebel  against  intrenched 
or  bureaucratic  groups.  Many  of  you  know  how 
they  resist  even  strongly  centralized  departments  of 
public  instruction,  and  how  the  effectiveness  of  such 
departments  may  be  jeopardized  and  much  lessened 
by  the  very  perfectness  of  their  organization;  and 
if  they  were  to  engage  in  a  custom  of  extraneous 
forms  of  news-giving  in  the  public  press,  the  resent- 
ment would  be  the  greater.  In  our  rural  work  we 
are  in  danger  of  developing  a  piece  of  machinery 
founded  on  our  fundamental  industry;  and  if  this 
ever  comes  about,  we  shall  find  the  people  organiz- 
ing to  resist  it. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  in  this  discus- 
sion I  assume  the  agricultural  work  to  be  systemati- 
cally organized,  both  in  nation  and  State;  this  is  es- 
sential to  good  effort  and  to  the  accomplishing  of 
results:  but  we  must  take  care  that  the  formal  or- 
147 


The  Holy  Earth 

ganization  does  not  get  in  the  way  of  the  good  work- 
ers, hindering  and  repressing  them  and  wasting  their 
time. 

We  want  governments  to  be  economical  and  effi- 
cient with  funds  and  in  the  control  of  affairs;  this 
also  is  assumed:  but  we  must  not  overlook  the 
larger  issues.  In  all  this  new  rural  effort,  we  should 
maintain  the  spirit  of  team-work  and  of  co-action, 
and  not  make  the  mistake  of  depending  too  much 
on  the  routine  of  centralized  control. 

In  this  country  we  are  much  criticised  for  the 
cost  of  government  and  for  the  supposed  control  of 
affairs  by  monopoly.  The  cost  is  undoubtedly  too 
great,  but  it  is  the  price  we  pay  for  the  satisfaction 
of  using  democratic  forms.  As  to  the  other  dis- 
ability, let  us  consider  that  society  lies  between  two 
dangers, — the  danger  of  monopoly  and  the  danger 
of  bureaucracy.  On  the  one  side  is  the  control  of 
the  necessities  of  life  by  commercial  organization. 
On  the  other  side  is  the  control  of  the  necessities 
of  life,  and  even  of  life  itself,  by  intrenched  groups 
that  ostensibly  represent  the  people  and  which  it 
may  be  impossible  to  dislodge.  Here  are  the  Scylla 
and  the  Charybdis  between  which  human  society 
must  pick  its  devious  way. 

Both  are  evil.  Of  the  two,  monopoly  may  be 
the  lesser:  it  may  be  more  easily  brought  under 
control;  it  tends  to  be  more  progressive;  it  extends 
148 


The  Democratic  Basis  in  Agriculture 

less  far;  it  may  be  the  less  hateful.  They  are  only 
two  expressions  of  one  thing,  one  possibly  worse 
than  the  other.  Probably  there  are  peoples  who 
pride  themselves  on  more  or  less  complete  escape 
from  monopoly  who  are  nevertheless  suffering  from 
the  most  deadening  bureaucracy. 

Agriculture  is  in  the  foundation  of  the  political, 
economic,  and  social  structure.  If  we  cannot  de- 
velop starting-power  in  the  background  people,  we 
cannot  maintain  it  elsewhere.  The  greatness  of  all 
this  rural  work  is  to  lie  in  the  results  and  not  in 
the  methods  that  absorb  so  much  of  our  energy. 
If  agriculture  cannot  be  democratic,  then  there  is 
no  democracy. 


149 


The  background  spaces. — The  forest 

"This  is  the  forest  primeval."  These  are  the 
significant  words  of  the  poet  in  Evangeline.  Per- 
haps more  than  any  single  utterance  they  have  set 
the  American  youth  against  the  background  of  the 
forest. 

The  backgrounds  are  important.  The  life  of 
every  one  of  us  is  relative.  We  miss  our  destiny 
when  we  miss  or  forget  our  backgrounds.  We  lose 
ourselves.  Men  go  off  in  vague  heresies  when  they 
forget  the  conditions  against  which  they  live.  Judg- 
ments become  too  refined  and  men  tend  to  become 
merely  disputatious  and  subtle. 

The  backgrounds  are  the  great  unoccupied  spaces. 
They  are  the  large  environments  in  which  we  live 
but  which  we  do  not  make.  The  backgrounds  are 
the  sky  with  its  limitless  reaches;  the  silences  of 
the  sea;  the  tundra  in  pallid  arctic  nights;  the  des- 
erts with  their  prismatic  colors;  the  shores  that  gird 
the  planet;  the  vast  mountains  that  are  beyond 
reach;  the  winds,  which  are  the  universal  voice  in 
nature;  the  sacredness  of  the  night;  the  elemental 
simplicity  of  the  open  fields;  and  the  solitude  of 
the  forest.  These  are  the  facts  and  situations 
150 


The  Background  Spaces 

that  stand  at  our  backs,  to  which  we  adjust  our 
civilization,  and  by  which  we  measure  ourselves. 

The  great  conquest  of  mankind  is  the  conquest 
of  his  natural  conditions.  We  admire  the  man  who 
overcomes:  the  sailor  or  navigator  in  hostile  and 
unknown  seas;  the  engineer  who  projects  himself 
hard  against  the  obstacles;  the  miner  and  the  ex- 
plorer; the  builder;  the  farmer  who  ameliorates  the 
earth  to  man's  use. 

But  even  though  we  conquer  or  modify  the 
physical  conditions  against  which  we  are  set,  never- 
theless the  backgrounds  will  remain.  I  hope  that 
we  may  always  say  "The  forest  primeval."  I 
hope  that  some  reaches  of  the  sea  may  never  be 
sailed,  that  some  swamps  may  never  be  drained, 
that  some  mountain  peaks  may  never  be  scaled,  that 
some  forests  may  never  be  harvested.  I  hope  that 
some  knowledge  may  never  be  revealed. 

Look  at  your  map  of  the  globe.  Note  how  few 
are  the  areas  of  great  congestion  of  population  and 
of  much  human  activity  as  compared  with  the  vast 
and  apparently  empty  spaces.  How  small  are  the 
spots  that  represent  the  cities  and  what  a  little 
part  of  the  earth  are  the  political  divisions  that  are 
most  in  the  minds  of  men !  We  are  likely  to  think 
that  all  these  outlying  and  thinly  peopled  places 
are  the  wastes.  I  suspect  that  they  contribute 
more  to  the  race  than  we  think.  I  am  glad  that 

151 


The  Holy  Earth 

there  are  still  some  places  of  mystery,  some  reaches 
of  hope,  some  things  far  beyond  us,  some  spaces  to 
conjure  up  dreams.  I  am  glad  that  the  earth  is 
not  all  Iowa  or  Belgium  or  the  Channel  Islands. 
I  am  glad  that  some  of  it  is  the  hard  hills  of  New 
England,  some  the  heathered  heights  of  Scotland, 
some  the  cold  distances  of  Quebec,  some  of  it  the 
islands  far  off  in  little-traversed  seas,  and  some  of 
it  also  the  unexplored  domains  that  lie  within  eye- 
sight of  our  own  homes.  It  is  well  to  know  that 
these  spaces  exist,  that  there  are  places  of  escape. 
They  add  much  to  the  ambition  of  the  race;  they 
make  for  strength,  for  courage,  and  for  renewal. 

In  the  cities  I  am  always  interested  in  the  va- 
riety of  the  contents  of  the  store  windows.  Vari- 
ously fabricated  and  disguised,  these  materials  come 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  They  come  from  the 
shores  of  the  seas,  from  the  mines,  from  the  land, 
from  the  forests,  from  the  arctic,  and  from  the  tropic. 
They  are  from  the  backgrounds.  The  cities  are 
great,  but  how  much  greater  are  the  forests  and 
the  sea ! 

No  people  should  be  forbidden  the  influence  of 
the  forest.  No  child  should  grow  up  without  a 
knowledge  of  the  forest;  and  I  mean  a  real  forest 
and  not  a  grove  or  village  trees  or  a  park.  There 
are  no  forests  in  cities,  however  many  trees  there 
may  be.  As  a  city  is  much  more  than  a  collection 
152 


The  Background  Spaces 

of  houses,  so  is  a  forest  much  more  than  a  collec- 
tion of  trees.  The  forest  has  its  own  round  of  life, 
its  characteristic  attributes,  its  climate,  and  its  in- 
habitants. When  you  enter  a  real  forest  you  enter 
the  solitudes,  you  are  in  the  unexpressed  distances. 
You  walk  on  the  mould  of  years  and  perhaps  of 
ages.  There  is  no  other  wind  like  the  wind  of  the 
forest;  there  is  no  odor  like  the  odor  of  the  forest; 
there  is  no  solitude  more  complete;  there  is  no  song 
of  a  brook  like  the  song  of  a  forest  brook;  there  is 
no  call  of  a  bird  like  that  of  a  forest  bird;  there 
are  no  mysteries  so  deep  and  wrhich  seem  yet  to  be 
within  one's  realization. 

While  a  forest  is  more  than  trees,  yet  the  trees 
are  the  essential  part  of  the  forest;  and  no  one  ever 
really  knows  or  understands  a  forest  until  he  first 
understands  a  tree.  There  is  no  thing  in  nature 
finer  and  stronger  than  the  bark  of  a  tree;  it  is  a 
thing  in  place,  adapted  to  its  ends,  perfect  in  its 
conformation,  beautiful  in  its  color  and  its  form 
and  the  sweep  of  its  contour;  and  every  bark  is  pe- 
culiar to  its  species.  I  think  that  one  never  really 
likes  a  tree  until  he  is  impelled  to  embrace  it  with 
his  arms  and  to  run  his  fingers  through  the  grooves 
of  its  bark. 

Man  listens  in  the  forest.  He  pauses  in  the  for- 
est, lie  finds  himself.  He  loses  himself  in  the  town 
and  even  perhaps  in  the  university.  lie  may  lose 
153 


The  Holy  Earth 

himself  in  business  and  in  great  affairs;  but  in  the 
forest  he  is  one  with  a  tree,  he  stands  by  himself 
and  yet  has  consolation,  and  he  comes  back  to  his 
own  place  in  the  scheme  of  things.  We  have  almost 
forgotten  to  listen;  so  great  and  ceaseless  is  the 
racket  that  the  little  voices  pass  over  our  ears  and 
we  hear  them  not.  I  have  asked  person  after  per- 
son if  he  knew  the  song  of  the  chipping-sparrow, 
and  most  of  them  are  unaware  that  it  has  any 
song.  We  do  not  hear  it  in  the  blare  of  the  city 
street,  in  railway  travel,  or  when  we  are  in  a  thun- 
derous crowd.  We  hear  it  in  the  still  places  and 
when  our  ears  are  ready  to  catch  the  smaller  sounds. 
There  is  no  music  like  the  music  of  the  forest,  and 
the  better  part  of  it  is  faint  and  far  away  or  high 
in  the  tops  of  trees. 

The  forest  may  be  an  asylum.  "The  groves 
were  God's  first  temples."  We  need  all  our  altars 
and  more,  but  we  need  also  the  sanctuary  of  the 
forest.  It  is  a  poor  people  that  has  no  forests.  I  prize 
the  farms  because  they  have  forests.  It  is  a  poor 
political  philosophy  that  has  no  forests.  It  is  a  poor 
nation  that  has  no  forests  and  no  workers  in  wood. 

In  many  places  there  are  the  forests.  I  think 
that  we  do  not  get  the  most  out  of  them.  Cer- 
tainly they  have  two  uses:  one  for  the  products, 
and  one  for  the  human  relief  and  the  inspiration. 
I  should  like  to  see  a  movement  looking  toward 
154 


The  Background  Spaces 

the  better  utilization  of  the  forests  humanly,  as  we 
use  school  buildings  and  church  buildings  and  public 
halls.  I  wish  that  we  might  take  our  friends  to  the 
forests  as  we  also  take  them  to  see  the  works  of  the 
masters.  For  this  purpose,  we  should  not  go  in 
large  companies.  We  need  sympathetic  guidance. 
Parties  of  two  and  four  may  go  separately  to  the 
forests  to  walk  and  to  sit  and  to  be  silent.  I  would 
not  forget  the  forest  in  the  night,  in  the  silence  and 
the  simplicity  of  the  darkness.  Strangely  few  are 
the  people  who  know  a  real  forest  at  dark.  Few 
are  those  who  know  the  forest  when  the  rain  is  fall- 
ing or  when  the  snow  covers  the  earth.  Yet  the 
forest  is  as  real  in  all  these  moments  as  when  the 
sun  is  at  full  and  the  weather  is  fair. 

I  wish  that  we  might  know  the  forest  intimately 
and  sensitively  as  a  part  of  our  background.  I 
think  it  would  do  much  to  keep  us  close  to  the 
verities  and  the  essentials. 


A  forest  background  for  a  reformatory 

Some  years  ago  I  presented  to  a  board  that  was 
charged  with  establishing  and  maintaining  a  new 
State  reformatory  for  wayward  and  delinquent 
boys  an  outline  of  a  possible  setting  for  the  enter- 
prise; and  as  this  statement  really  constitutes  a 
practical  application  of  some  of  the  foregoing  dis- 
cussions, I  present  the  larger  part  of  it  here.  With 
delinquents  it  is  specially  important  to  develop  the 
sense  of  obligation  and  responsibility,  and  I  fear 
that  we  are  endeavoring  to  stimulate  this  sense  too 
exclusively  by  means  of  direct  governing  and  dis- 
ciplinary methods.  The  statement  follows. 

I  think  that  the  activities  in  the  proposed  refor- 
matory should  be  largely  agricultural  and  industrial. 
So  far  as  possible  the  young  men  should  be  put 
into  direct  contact  with  realities  and  with  useful 
and  practical  work.  An  effort  should  be  made  to 
have  all  this  work  mean  something  to  them  and 
not  to  be  merely  make-believe.  It  is  fairly  pos- 
sible to  develop  such  a  property  and  organization 
as  will  put  them  in  touch  with  real  work  rather 
than  to  force  the  necessity  of  setting  tasks  in  order 
to  keep  them  busy. 

156 


A  Forest  Background 

Aside  from  the  manual  labor  part  of  it,  the  back- 
ground of  the  reformatory  should  be  such  as  will 
develop  the  feeling  of  responsibility  in  the  workers. 
This  means  that  they  must  come  actually  in  con- 
tact with  the  raw  materials  and  with  things  as  they 
grow.  When  a  young  man  has  a  piece  of  wood  or 
metal  given  to  him  in  a  shop,  his  whole  respon- 
sibility is  merely  to  make  something  out  of  this  ma- 
terial; he  has  no  responsibility  for  the  material 
itself,  as  he  would  have  if  he  had  been  obliged  to 
mine  it  or  to  grow  it.  One  of  the  greatest  advan- 
tages of  a  farm  training  is  that  it  develops  a  man's 
responsibility  toward  the  materials  with  which  he 
works.  He  is  always  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
problem  of  saving  the  fertility  of  the  land,  saving 
the  crops,  saving  the  forests,  and  saving  the  live- 
stock. The  idea  of  saving  and  safeguarding  these 
materials  is  only  incidental  to  those  who  do  not 
help  to  produce  them. 

It  is  important  that  the  farm  of  this  reformatory 
should  be  large  enough  so  that  all  the  young  men 
may  do  some  real  pieces  of  work  on  it.  Such  a  farm 
is  not  to  be  commercial  in  the  ordinary  farming 
sense.  Its  primary  purpose  is  to  aid  in  a  reforma- 
tive or  educational  process.  You  should,  therefore, 
undertake  such  types  of  farming  as  will  best  serve 
those  needs  and  best  meet  the  abilities  of  the  in- 
mates. A  very  highly  specialized  farming,  as  the 
157 


The  Holy  Earth 

growing  of  truck-crops,  would  be  quite  impracti- 
cable as  a  commercial  enterprise  because  this  kind 
of  farming  demands  the  greatest  skill  and  also  be- 
cause it  requires  a  property  very  easily  accessible 
to  our  great  markets  and,  therefore,  very  expensive 
to  procure  and  difficult  to  find  in  large  enough  acre- 
age for  an  institution  of  this  size;  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  this  type  of  farming  would  have  the 
best  effect  on  the  inmates.  Of  course,  I  should  ex- 
pect that  the  institution  would  try  to  grow  its  own 
vegetables,  but  it  would  probably  be  unwise  to 
make  truck-gardening  the  backbone  of  the  farming 
enterprise.  I  also  feel  that  it  would  not  be  best  to 
make  it  primarily  a  dairy  farm  or  a  fruit  farm  or 
a  poultry  farm,  although  all  these  things  should 
be  well  represented  on  the  place  and  in  sufficient 
extent  to  supply  the  institution  in  whole  or  in  part. 

There  should  be  such  a  farming  enterprise  as 
would  give  a  very  large  and  open  background,  part 
of  it  practically  wild,  and  which  would  allow  for 
considerable  freedom  of  action  on  the  part  of  the 
inmates.  You  should  have  operations  perhaps  some- 
what in  the  rough  and  which  would  appeal  to  the 
manly  qualities  of  the  young  men.  It  seems  to  me 
that  a  forestry  enterprise  would  possibly  be  the  best 
as  the  main  part  of  the  farming  scheme. 

If  the  reformatory  could  have  one  thousand  acres 
of  forest,  the  area  would  provide  a  great  variety  of 
158 


A  Forest  Background 

conditions  that  the  inmates  would  have  to  meet,  it 
would  give  work  in  the  building  of  roads  and  culverts 
and  trails,  it  would  provide  winter  activity  at  a  time 
when  the  other  farming  enterprises  are  slack,  it 
would  bring  the  inmates  directly  in  touch  with  wild 
and  native  life,  and  it  would  also  place  them  against 
the  natural  resources  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
feel  their  responsibility  for  the  objects  and  the  sup- 
plies. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  impossible  to  secure  one  thou- 
sand acres  of  good  timber  in  a  more  or  less  continu- 
ous area.  However,  it  might  be  possible  to  assemble 
a  good  number  of  contiguous  farms  in  some  of  the 
hill  regions  so  that  one  thousand  acres  of  timber  in 
various  grades  of  maturity  might  be  secured.  There 
would  be  open  spaces  which  ought  to  be  planted, 
and  this  of  itself  would  provide  good  work  and 
supervision.  The  trimming,  felling,  and  other  care 
of  this  forest  would  be  continuous.  The  forest  should 
not  be  stripped,  but  merely  the  merchantable  or 
ready  timber  removed  from  year  to  year,  and  the 
domain  kept  in  a  growing  and  recuperating  condi- 
tion. One  thousand  acres  of  forest,  in  which  timber 
is  fit  to  be  cut,  should  produce  an  annual  increase 
of  two  hundred  thousand  to  three  hundred  thou- 
sand board  feet,  and  this  increase  should  not  lessen 
as  the  years  go  on.  This  timber  should  be  manu- 
factured. I  have  not  looked  into  the  question  as  to 
159 


The  Holy  Earth 

whether  a  market  could  be  found  for  the  materials 
that  would  be  made  from  this  timber,  but  I  should 
suppose  that  a  market  could  be  as  readily  secured 
for  this  kind  of  manufacture  as  for  any  other.  The 
educational  and  moral  effect  of  seeing  the  material 
grow,  then  caring  for  it,  then  harvesting  it,  and 
then  manufacturing  it  would  be  very  great.  One 
could  follow  the  process  from  beginning  to  end  and 
feel  a  responsibility  for  it  in  every  stage.  I  should 
suppose  that  the  manufacture  would  be  of  small 
work  and  not  merely  the  sawing  of  lumber.  It 
might  be  well  to  determine  whether  there  would  be 
market  for  chairs,  cabinets,  and  other  furniture, 
whip-stocks,  or  small  material  that  could  be  used 
in  the  manufacture  of  novelties  and  other  like  ar- 
ticles. Possibly  the  reformatory  could  supply  some 
of  the  stock  to  the  prisons  that  are  manufacturing 
furniture,  although  the  educational  and  moral  ef- 
fects would  be  better  if  the  inmates  could  see  the 
process  from  beginning  to  end. 

Of  course,  you  would  not  limit  the  manufactur- 
ing activities  of  the  reformatory  to  wood-working. 
You  probably  wrould  be  obliged  to  have  other  kinds 
of  factories,  but  the  wood-working  shops  ought  to 
be  part  of  the  plan  and  I  should  hope  a  very  im- 
portant part. 

I  have  not  made  any  careful  study  of  this  ques- 
tion, and  do  not  know  how  feasible  these  sugges- 
100 


A  Forest  Background 

tions  may  be;  but  they  appeal  to  me  very  strongly 
on  the  educational  and  reformational  end.  These 
suggestions  are  made  only  that  they  may  be  con- 
sidered along  with  other  suggestions,  and  if  they 
seem  to  be  worth  while,  to  have  the  question  in- 
vestigated. 

If  something  like  one  thousand  acres  of  land 
were  secured  for  a  forest,  it  would  mean  that  the 
farm  itself  would  be  rather  large.  There  ought  to 
be  probably  not  less  than  two  or  three  hundred 
acres  of  land  that  might  be  used  for  grazing,  gar- 
dens, and  the  ordinary  farm  operations  that  would 
contribute  to  the  support  of  the  inmates  of  the  in- 
stitution. Of  course,  this  arable  land  ought  to  be 
valley  land  or  at  least  fairly  level  and  accessible 
along  good  public  highways.  The  forest  land  could 
be  more  remote,  running  back  on  the  hills.  If  the 
property  could  be  so  located  that  the  forest  would 
control  the  sources  of  important  streams  and  springs, 
the  results  would  be  all  the  better.  The  young  men 
should  feel  their  responsibility  for  creeks  and  ponds, 
and  for  the  protection  of  wild  life  as  well  as  for  the 
crops  that  they  raise. 

Where  the  reformatory  should  be  located  is  a 
matter  that  should  receive  very  careful  attention. 
It  is  not  alone  the  problem  of  finding  a  site  that  is 
proper  for  a  reformatory,  but  also  the  question  of  so 
placing  it  that  it  will  have  some  relation  to  State 
1G1 


The  Holy  Earth 

development  and  some  connection  with  the  people's 
interests  and  desires.  State  institutions  should  be  so 
separated  that  the  greatest  number  of  people  may  see 
them  or  come  into  contact  with  them.  I  dislike  the 
tendency  to  group  the  State  institutions  about  cer- 
tain populous  centres.  In  these  days  of  easy  trans- 
portation, the  carrying  problem  is  really  of  less  im- 
portance than  certain  less  definite  but  none  the  less 
real  relations  to  all  the  people.  There  are  certain 
great  areas  in  the  State  of  considerable  population 
in  which  there  are  no  State  institutions,  and  in  which 
the  people  know  nothing  about  such  affairs  beyond 
the  local  school  and  church.  Perhaps  at  first  blush 
the  people  of  a  locality  might  not  relish  the  idea  of 
having  a  reformatory  in  their  midst,  but  this  feel- 
ing ought  soon  to  pass  away;  and,  moreover,  the 
people  should  be  made  to  feel  their  responsibility 
for  reformatories,  asylums,  and  penitentiaries  as  well 
as  their  responsibility  for  any  other  State  institu- 
tions, and  the  feeling  should  not  be  encouraged 
that  such  institutions  should  be  put  somewhere  else 
merely  because  one  locality  does  not  desire  them. 

The  character  of  the  property  that  is  purchased 
will  determine  to  a  very,  large  extent  the  character 
of  the  institution,  and,  therefore,  the  nature  of  the 
reformatory  processes.  This  is  more  important  than 
transportation  facilities.  It  is  a  more  important 
question  even  than  that  of  the  proper  buildings,  for 
102 


A  Forest  Background 

buildings  for  these  purposes  have  been  studied  by 
many  experts  and  our  ideas  concerning  them  have 
been  more  or  less  standardized  and,  moreover,  build- 
ings can  be  extended  and  modified  more  easily  than 
can  the  landed  area.  It  seems  to  me  that  before 
you  think  actually  of  purchasing  the  land,  you 
should  arrive  at  a  fairly  definite  conclusion  as  to 
what  kind  of  a  farming  enterprise  it  is  desired  to 
develop  as  a  background  for  the  institution;  you 
could  then  determine  as  far  as  possible  on  principle 
in  what  general  region  the  institution  ought  to  be 
located ;  and  then  set  out  on  a  direct  exploration  to 
determine  whether  the  proper  kind  and  quantity  of 
land  can  be  secured. 


ir>3 


The  background  spaces. — The  open  fields 

Here  not  long  ago  was  the  forest  primeval.  Here 
the  trees  sprouted,  and  grew  their  centuries,  and 
returned  to  the  earth.  Here  the  midsummer  brook 
ran  all  day  long  from  the  far-away  places.  Here 
the  night-winds  slept.  Here  havened  the  beasts 
and  fowls  when  storms  pursued  them.  Here  the 
leaves  fell  in  the  glory  of  the  autumn,  here  other 
leaves  burst  forth  in  the  miracle  of  spring,  and 
here  the  pewee  called  in  the  summer.  Here  the 
Indian  tracked  his  game. 

It  was  not  so  very  long  ago.  That  old  man's 
father  remembers  it.  Then  it  was  a  new  and  holy 
land,  seemingly  fresh  from  the  hand  of  the  creator. 
The  old  man  speaks  of  it  as  of  a  golden  time,  now 
far  away  and  hallowed;  he  speaks  of  it  with  an  at- 
titude of  reverence.  "Ah  yes,"  my  father  told  me; 
and  calmly  with  bared  head  he  relates  it,  every 
incident  so  sacred  that  not  one  hairbreadth  must 
he  deviate.  The  church  and  the  master's  school 
and  the  forest, — these  three  are  strong  in  his 
memory. 

Yet  these  are  not  all.  He  remembers  the  homes 
cut  in  the  dim  wall  of  the  forest.  He  recalls  the 
farms  full  of  stumps  and  heaps  of  logs  and  the  ox- 
164 


The  Open  Fields 

teams  on  them,  for  these  were  in  his  boyhood.  The 
ox-team  was  a  natural  part  of  the  slow-moving  con- 
quest in  those  rugged  days.  Roads  betook  them- 
selves into  the  forest,  like  great  serpents  devouring 
as  they  went.  And  one  day,  behold !  the  forest  was 
gone.  Farm  joined  farm,  the  village  grew,  the  old 
folk  fell  away,  new  people  came  whose  names  had 
to  be  asked. 

And  I  thought  me  why  these  fields  are  not  as 
hallowed  as  were  the  old  forests.  Here  are  the  same 
knolls  and  hills.  In  this  turf  there  may  be  still 
the  fibres  of  ancient  trees.  Here  are  the  paths  of 
the  midsummer  brooks,  but  vocal  now  only  in  the 
freshets.  Here  are  the  winds.  The  autumn  goes 
and  the  spring  comes.  The  pewee  calls  in  the 
groves.  The  farmer  and  not  the  Indian  tracks  the 
plow. 

Here  I  look  down  on  a  little  city.  There  is  a 
great  school  in  it.  There  are  spires  piercing  the 
trees.  In  the  distance  are  mills,  and  I  see  the  smoke 
of  good  accomplishment  roll  out  over  the  hillside. 
It  is  a  self-centred  city,  full  of  pride.  Every 
mile-post  praises  it.  Toward  it  all  the  roads 
lead.  It  tells  itself  to  all  the  surrounding  country. 
And  yet  I  cannot  but  feel  that  these  quiet  fields 
and  others  like  them  have  made  this  city;  but  I 
am  glad  that  the  fields  are  not  proud. 

One  day  a  boy  and  one  day  a  girl  will  go  down 
105 


The  Holy  Earth 

from  these  fields,  and  out  into  the  thoroughways  of 
life.  They  will  go  far,  but  these  hills  they  will 
still  call  home. 

From  these  uplands  the  waters  flow  down  into 
the  streams  that  move  the  mills  and  that  float  the 
ships.  Loads  of  timber  still  go  hence  for  the  con- 
struction down  below.  Here  go  building-stones  and 
sand  and  gravel, — gravel  from  the  glaciers.  Here 
goes  the  hay  for  ten  thousand  horses.  Here  go  the 
wheat,  and  here  the  apples,  and  the  animals.  Here 
are  the  votes  that  hold  the  people  steady. 

Somewhere  there  is  the  background.  Here  is  the 
background.  Here  things  move  slowly.  Trees  grow 
slowly.  The  streams  change  little  from  year  to  year, 
and  yet  they  shape  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  this 
hill  country.  In  yonder  fence-row  the  catbird  has 
built  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  yet  I  have  wandered 
far  and  I  have  seen  great  changes  in  yonder  city. 
The  well-sweep  has  gone  but  the  well  is  still  there: 
the  wells  are  gone  from  the  city.  The  cows  have 
changed  in  color,  but  still  they  are  cows  and  yield 
their  milk  in  season.  The  fields  do  not  perish,  but 
time  eats  away  the  city.  I  think  all  these  things 
must  be  good  and  very  good  or  they  could  not 
have  persisted  in  all  this  change. 

In  the  beginning !  Yes,  I  know,  it  was  holy  then. 
The  forces  of  eons  shaped  it:  still  was  it  holy.  The 
forest  came:  still  holy.  Then  came  the  open  fields. 
160 


The  background  spaces. — The  ancestral  sea 

The  planet  is  not  all  land,  and  the  sea  is  as  holy 
as  the  soil.  We  speak  of  the  "  waste  of  waters,"  and 
we  still  offer  prayers  for  those  who  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships. 

Superstition  yet  clings  about  the  sea.  The  lands- 
man thinks  of  the  sea  as  barren,  and  he  regrets  that 
it  is  not  solid  land  on  which  he  may  grow  grass  and 
cattle.  And  as  one  looks  over  the  surface  of  the 
waters,  with  no  visible  object  on  the  vast  expanse 
and  even  the  clouds  lying  apparently  dead  and  ster- 
ile, and  when  one  considers  that  three-fourths  of 
the  earth's  surface  is  similarly  covered,  one  has  the 
impression  of  utter  waste  and  desolation,  with  no 
good  thing  abiding  there  for  the  comfort  and  cheer 
of  man. 

The  real  inhabitants  of  the  sea  are  beneath  the 
surface  and  every  part  is  tenanted,  so  completely 
tenanted  that  the  ocean  produces  greater  bulk  of 
life,  area  for  area,  than  does  the  solid  land;  and 
every  atom  of  this  life  is  as  keen  to  live  and  fol- 
lows as  completely  the  law  of  its  existence  as  does 
the  life  of  the  interiors  of  the  continents.  The  vast 
meadows  of  plankton  and  nekton,  albeit  largely  of 
organisms  microscopic,  form  a  layer  for  hundreds 
167 


The  Holy  Earth 

of  feet  beneath  the  surface  and  on  which  the  great 
herbivora  feed;  and  on  these  animals  the  legions  of 
the  carnivora  subsist.  Every  vertical  region  has  its 
life,  peculiar  to  it,  extending  even  to  the  bottoms  of 
the  depths  in  the  world-slimes  and  the  darkness; 
and  in  these  deeps  the  falling  remains  of  the  upper 
realms,  like  gentle  primeval  rains,  afford  a  never- 
failing,  never-ending  source  of  food  and  maintain 
the  slow  life  in  the  bottoms.  We  think  of  the  huge 
animals  of  the  sea  when  we  think  of  mass,  and  it 
is  true  that  the  great  whales  are  the  bulkiest  crea- 
tures we  knowT  to  have  lived;  yet  it  is  the  bacteria, 
the  desmids,  the  minute  crustaceans,  and  many 
other  diminutive  forms  that  everywhere  populate 
the  sea  from  the  equator  to  the  poles  and  provide 
the  vast  background  of  the  ocean  life.  In  these 
gulfs  of  moving  unseen  forms  nitrification  proceeds, 
and  the  rounds  of  life  go  on  unceasingly.  The  levi- 
athan whale  strains  out  these  minute  organisms  from 
the  volumes  of  waters,  and  so  full  of  them  may  be 
his  maw  that  his  captors  remove  the  accumulation 
with  spades.  The  rivers  bring  down  their  freight 
of  mud  and  organic  matter,  and  supply  food  for  the 
denizens  of  the  sea.  The  last  remains  of  all  these 
multitudes  are  laid  down  on  the  ocean  floors  as  or- 
ganic oozes;  and  nobody  knows  what  part  the  abys- 
mal soil  may  play  in  the  economy  of  the  plant  in 
some  future  epoch. 

168 


The  Ancestral  Sea 

The  rains  of  the  land  come  from  the  sea;  the 
clouds  come  ultimately  from  the  sea;  the  trade- 
winds  flow  regularly  from  the  sea;  the  tempera- 
tures of  the  land  surface  are  controlled  largely  from 
the  sea;  the  high  lands  are  washed  into  the  sea  as 
into  a  basin;  if  all  the  continents  were  levelled  into 
the  sea  still  would  the  sea  envelop  the  planet  about 
two  miles  deep.  Impurities  find  their  way  into  the 
sea  and  are  there  digested  into  the  universal  benefi- 
cence. We  must  reckon  with  the  sea. 

It  is  supposed  that  the  first  life  on  the  earth  came 
forth  where  the  land  and  the  waters  join,  from  that 
eternal  interplay  of  cosmic  forces  where  the  solid 
and  the  fluid,  the  mobile  and  the  immobile,  meet 
and  marry. 

Verily,  the  ancestral  sea  is  the  background  of  the 
planet.  Its  very  vastness  makes  it  significant.  It 
shows  no  age.  Its  deeps  have  no  doubt  existed 
from  the  solidification  of  the  earth  and  they  will 
probably  remain  when  all  works  of  man  perish 
utterly. 

The  sea  is  the  bosom  of  the  earth's  mysteries. 
Because  man  cannot  set  foot  on  it,  the  sea  remains 
beyond  his  power  to  modify,  to  handle,  and  to  con- 
trol. Xo  breach  that  man  may  make  but  will  im- 
mediately fill;  no  fleets  of  mighty  ships  go  down 
but  that  the  sea  covers  them  in  silence  and  knows 
them  not;  man  may  not  hold  converse  with  the 
169 


The  Holy  Earth 

monsters  in  the  deeps.  The  sea  is  beyond  him, 
surpassing,  elemental,  and  yet  blessing  him  with 
abundant  benedictions. 

So  vast  is  the  sea  and  so  self-recuperating  that 
man  cannot  sterilize  it.  He  despoils  none  of  its 
surface  when  he  sails  his  ships.  He  does  not  anni- 
hilate the  realms  of  plankton,  lying  layer  on  layer 
in  its  deluging,  consuming  soil.  It  controls  him 
mightily. 

The  seas  and  the  shores  have  provided  the  trading 
ways  of  the  peoples.  The  ocean  connects  all  lands, 
surrounds  all  lands.  Until  recent  times  the  great 
marts  have  been  mostly  on  coasts  or  within  easy 
water  access  of  them.  The  polity  of  early  settle- 
ments was  largely  the  polity  of  the  sea  and  the 
strand.  The  daring  of  the  navigator  was  one  of  the 
first  of  the  heroic  human  qualities.  Probably  all 
dry  land  was  once  under  the  sea,  and  therefrom  has 
it  drawn  much  of  its  power. 

From  earliest  times  the  sea  has  yielded  property 
common  to  all  and  free  to  whomever  would  take  it, 
—the  fish,  the  wrack,  the  drift,  the  salvage  of  ships. 
Pirates  have  roamed  the  sea  for  spoil  and  booty. 
When  government  appropriates  the  wreckage  of 
ships  and  the  stranded  derelict  of  the  sea,  the  people 
may  think  it  justifiable  protection  of  their  rights  to 
secrete  it.  Smuggling  is  an  old  sea  license.  Laws 
and  customs  and  old  restraints  lose  their  force  and 
170 


The  Ancestral  Sea 

vanish  on  the  sea;  and  freedom  rises  out  of  the 
sea. 

And  so  the  ocean  has  contributed  to  the  making 
of  the  outlook  of  the  human  family.  The  race 
would  be  a  very  different  race  had  there  been  no 
sea  stretching  to  the  unknown,  conjuring  vague  fears 
and  stimulating  hopes,  bringing  its  freight,  bearing 
tidings  of  far  lands,  sundering  traditions,  rolling  the 
waves  of  its  elemental  music,  driving  its  rank  smells 
into  the  nostrils,  putting  its  salt  into  the  soul. 


171 


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